Return To Me Pt 2
by Radiorox
Summary: Complete! The worst type of enemy is the one that you underestimate. – Harm and Mac’s relationship is rocked when SECNAV Hewitt, with the help of Vukovic, sets her plan in motion. The Continuation of Return To Me.
1. Intentions

Title: Return To Me (Part 2 – Learning To Keep You)

Author: Jackie (Radiorox)

Summary: The worst type of enemy is the one that you underestimate. – Harm and Mac's relationship is taken to the breaking point when Vukovic exacts his revenge. - The Continuation of Return To Me.

SPECIAL THANKS TO WITCHY V for her wonderful beta skills. You rock! Page number 2,589,458,455? ;)

PART 1 – Intentions

1 Day Before Thanksgiving  
1455 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

"Hmm. . .So much for having a quiet holiday season." Frustrated, Mac tossed the freshly faxed papers onto her desk and sighed deeply. "Great, this is just great." She pinched the bridge of her nose, already anticipating the headache that would soon develop. It wasn't the worst thing that could happen, but couldn't things be over and done with?

The last few months since Harm wrapped up the Patterson case had been chaotic. The case had been 'high profile' alright and Harm had spent a good deal of time making sure none of his employees or himself, would come out on camera. It would destroy future cases and possibly put one of them in danger. Despite the free press, he'd managed to bar their names off of everything. The DEA, who took over the case and promised to throw the book at Manda and Jarvis, pulled every string imaginable to keep things under wraps.

Leaning against the doorframe, Harm stood watching Mac's shoulders slump when she reached to grab a paper on her desk. Amidst the chaos that had encircled their professional lives for the last few months, he was surprised just how close Mac and he had become. That unmistakable, electric charge that was always between them only grew in intensity. Harm couldn't help but compare this relationship to others, only to find that there was nothing to compare. When, at other times, he would have considered begging the woman to break up with him, now he found that he _wanted_ to be at home with Mac. He _wanted_ her opinion on things. He _wanted_ to listen to her day even when it was just as crazy as his. Somehow he'd become that lovesick guy everyone used to tease in high school. The one that knew he'd found _the one_. The one that couldn't take another breath if she wasn't at his side.

Was it frightening? Hell yes! He'd never felt like this before and that made the ability to fail so much more pronounced. Then, there were a million and one things that could go wrong, including his foot in the mouth syndrome and that reoccurring nightmare of having Mac meet an old flame with some tawdry tale.

"Argh!" Mac grunted and Harm wondered how to approach her. It was obvious her "Harm Radar" as she like to call it, was taking a break and sneaking up on a Marine was a bad, bad, bad idea.

He didn't want to scare her either but. Oh well, "What's up?" Much to his surprise, her body language didn't change. Mac didn't flinch, didn't jump, nothing. Did she even hear him? Tentatively, he stepped into their office and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You trying to ignore me, MacKenzie?" He teased and for his effort got a playful, yet stern look.

"And destroy my chances to snag a kiss from you every chance I get? Never!" She smiled up at Harm and then leaned into him as they shared a soft kiss. Sighing when they broke apart, she nodded towards the paperwork on her desk. "You need to take a look at that."

Ah, so this wasn't just 'work' related, it was something that involved him too? "You aren't going away are you? Or something? The General isn't shipping you back to DC, right?" From his position, just to the side of Mac, he took a glance at the paperwork. Nope, no change of billet, no change in position. Nothing to really worry about except a case of a Marine Master Sergeant Clarence Cisco. "You need help on a case or something?"

Mac shook her head. "Three for three sailor. . .Look down further, under his alias." She knew the moment Harm had found the particular detail she was aiming for, if his groan had anything to say about it. "I couldn't believe it myself until the pieces started fitting in."

Harm came around her and sat on the top side of the desk. "Wow, he got into the military with _this_ many priors?"

"Apparently the judge believed he would go clean. . .and he did, until he met Patterson." The Master Sergeant was wanted in connection to a drug deal gone South. The authorities had never pieced the clues together, but Mac had a hunch. The fax solidified said hunch. Cisco wasn't a bad seed, always had been and always would be. His problems with the law didn't stop when he joined the Marines. It was a miracle that he made it as high as he did and was always suspected the man was bribing his way into a better pay grade. "Manda and Jarvis had a shipment coming in aboard a C-130 carrying Marines. . .Apparently she, somehow, bumped into Cisco, worked out a little deal and, because he was acting CO, he managed to stick five crates worth of pure blow onto the plane."

"A lot of people are going to get nailed here, Mac. . ." Cisco wasn't the one to bare the full brunt, so would the loading crew and anyone else who failed to check those crates for their content. For that matter, Cisco's commanding officer would probably be brought up on a charge or two. "How could anyone just. . .just LET him lead. . .This is sick."

Sighing, Mac glanced at the picture of Cisco and then placed it in a file folder. "What's sick is that he actually trained the recruits for about two years. . .Can you imagine what sort of crap they learned from him?" It disgusted her when people like this had any part in the military. True, some people _did_ change, Jennifer Coates was a fine example, but others. . . "I will probably have to bring up Patterson and Jarvis."

"You'll need me to testify." He said flatly and wasn't looking forward to being in that particular section of the courtroom. "Although I'll hate every moment of it, I'll do it." He placed the paperwork inside the folder and then jumped off of the desk. "So where is Cisco at the moment?" Her laughter threw him off stride. "Okay?"

"He's on the Henry. . ."

"Vic's defending, isn't he?" He may have been three for three a moment ago, but now he was making all of those points up. Mac's silence spoke volumes.

"Maybe you should be second chair? I mean, you have your license here, it would be good practice."

He chuckled, as much as he missed the courtroom, certain things didn't work well together. "I can't be second chair if I am a witness. You're not afraid of him are you?" Harm baited her.

"No!" The quick response belied the answer. She wasn't afraid of him. Mac was terrified of what type of grudge Vic would harbor because of the current assignment. "I'm not afraid of him, alright. . . I am apprehensive, he's been known to do a lot of stupid shit and it will come back to me."

Sensing the conversation was going to be longer than anticipated, Harm leaned his hip against the desk. "Mac, maybe this will be good for him? Sometimes all you need is a little change to see what an ass you've been." He flashed her a flyboy grin and continued. "I learned my lesson." And I'm still learning he wanted to add, but chose to keep it under wraps.

Something about Vukovic ceased to convince her of any good intentions or any change in his way of thinking. The kid was like a dog with a bone. . .A rabid dog with a bone. "I can't put my finger on it, but something is up with him. . .Did you know he's in bed with the new SECNAV?"

"_In bed_? As in, having an unprofessional relationship? Or were you speaking metaphorically?"

"Metaphorically. . .Bud found papers in his office faxed from Hewitt's (SECNAV) office. They were pretty much insignificant, just a few publicity stunts, but. . .Why were they sent to _him_ without _my_ knowledge?" Though the SECNAV's had a habit of all playing by their own rules, the tended to make sure the commanding officers knew the game, this was just particularly odd. "I just _don't_ trust him."

"And you're going up against him? Maybe it's not such a hot idea."

"I'm not worried about that. . .I can handle him in the courtroom."

Harm scoffed. "I don't want to know." Playfully he covered his ears with his hands and quickly became serious again. "Mac, what I am worried about is your objectivity."

Ouch, now that hurt. The last time he accused her of not being objective was during Farrow's trial. It had hurt then and is still stung now. "That's funny coming from you, _Captain_." She grabbed the file in one fluid motion and then walked to the corner where both of their briefcases sat. Opening hers, she stuffed the file inside and then turned to him. "You aren't _that _objective either, you know? So, both of us take a hard-line on things. . . I definitely have that right. . .In fact, it's part of my job to make sure that. . .that. .ss-SNAKE doesn't screw things up for those that actually want to do their service."

Taking a step back, Harm rose his hands up in surrender. "Babe, I know that. . .I know it's part of your job. I'm just worried about you." He quickly waved off her attempt to answer back. "Wait, hear me out. . .I'm worried about you and what this bullshit with Vic is doing to _you._ Not you as an officer, just. . ._you._ . .I've never seen you this vindictive before." Though she was right and Vic deserved everything he had coming and more, this obsession she had with nailing him to the wall had to end before it consumed her. "Just take it easy. . . I mean, according to that karma crap, he'll have it coming anyway."

Mac nodded, though she knew it wasn't going to be easy. At least with Vic so many miles away, there had been some levity. After the case was over, he'd go back out to sea and that would be the end of him for possibly a year, maybe longer. "I'll try to. . ." The doorbell cut her off. ". . .chill in regards to Vic." She said to an empty room as she could hear Harm sprinting down the steps. He was excited and had a right to be, Mattie was coming home to visit during the Thanksgiving break. Christmas was still up in the air and was rumored she was going skiing in Vermont with classmates.

"Kiddo!" Harm threw the door open and enveloped his daughter in his arms, hugging her for all she was worth. Though he'd become accustomed to the time apart, when she came home it was one of the most wonderful experiences of his life.

Mac leaned against the doorframe, watching the exchange with great amusement. She liked seeing this side of him and lamented the fact that she'd cheated them on having kids of their own. Maybe it was all for the best? She wasn't getting any younger and if the Fates knew that they were going to spend those five years apart, it was better not to have a child between them. Yes, she decided, it was for the best. "So you going to let the Midshipman in, Harm, or are you going to let her stand outside in the rain _all_ day?" Once Mattie stepped inside, the two also shared a strong, bear type hug.

"Thanks for letting me crash here, Mac." Mattie glanced up at her father's girlfriend and grinned.

"Hey, you're a part of my life too, Mats. . .I want this to feel like it's your home." It was nice having a little youth hanging around the house, even if it was for a short time. Not that she and Harm were old, quite the contrary, the two acted more like hormone raging teenagers ninety-five percent of the time.

They _had_ managed to sneak some rest and recovery time when Manda and Jarvis were taken into custody. It was a Godsend after spending nearly twenty four hours being questioned by Lord knows how many agents. Borrowing _The Lady Patricia_ from Frank, Harm and Mac sailed off to the same spot they had been at before. It was lovely, but a storm brought them back to shore three days early. They hadn't had much time off since.

Mattie grinned. She'd always liked Mac for Harm though (from chatting with Jen) she knew the Marine had been the cause for her father's heartache. Hating every woman that came between her and Harm since they'd left Washington wasn't just a 'kid thing.' The women used Harm's vulnerability to get whatever they wanted from him. Susan had far been the worst, the woman was an absolute maniac and her involvement with them had caused a tear in Mattie's relationship with Harm that was nearly irreparable. She knew about Harm's scars, though he'd tried to hide them away. She also knew, that though he pretended to not care, his heart would always belong to Sarah MacKenzie. "I want to be a part of your life, Mac. . .I need a Marine on my team to gang up on Harm more often." She softly punched his arm and giggled when he gave a fake look of hurt.

"Great, a Middie and a Marine. . .Nice name for a comedy. Ooof!" This time he got punched by both of them. "Alright! I surrender! Sheesh!" Grabbing both Mac and Mattie, he wrapped his arms around them, squeezing a little too tight. "Ah, my girls. . .Now, get your six upstairs and change Mats, your old man is taking us out to dinner."

"You're not that old!" Both she and Mac affirmed at the same time. The three shared a good natured laugh before Mattie disappeared up the steps. With a sigh, Mac leaned into Harm, smiling when his arms came around her. "This is nice. . .It's going to be cool having her here."

"Mmm." Harm agreed, pushing her backwards towards the sofa.

Raising a brow, she questioned his motives. "What are you doing?" As an answer the only thing Mac got was a sly smile. "Haaaarm?" She drew out his name, trying to act serious but, before she knew it, the back of her legs touched the sofa and they were both tumbling onto it. Looking up, she saw Harm's lips coming close. "Wooah, no way, buddy." Managing to bring her arms between them, she pushed up, holding Harm just a mere two inches away. "We're so not making out with your daughter under this roof."

"Who said I wanted to 'make out'?" Harm's sly grin took a turn for the mischievous as he lowered himself to her. He stopped when Mac's eyes went wide as saucers.

For the life of her, Mac couldn't tell why she was suddenly whispering. "We are _not_ going to have sex."

"Mattie's a big girl. . .Besides, don't you think our folks had sex when we were in the house?" Though the thought of that made him cringe. "It's normal."

But, Mac was still holding him back. "Yes, it's normal, but not in the living room with the kid right upstairs. Besides, she just got here. . ."

Sighing dramatically, Harm lifted himself up and sat at the end of the sofa. God, he loved making her uncomfortable in settings like these where it wouldn't seem like too much. Where it would be fun and carefree. "Mac, you're a prude. . .And alright, we'll wait a while. It'll give me time to formulate a good answer for all of the noise."

How the hell did he manage to pull half of her shirt up, Mac had no idea, but she was busy putting it back on when he hit her with that comment. "Noise?"

"Yup. Noise."

Alright, she'll bite. "What noise?"

"_You_."

Sitting up straight, she brought her arms across her chest. "Me? I _don't _make noise, Harm." She snorted, then stood up, offering a hand to pull him up as well.

"Ah, Yes you do." Well, it wasn't noise, it was sweet music to his ears, but he and Mac had been known to get a little. . .erm. . .loud. "I could try to mimic that throaty moan you do, but. . ."

Mattie's footsteps stopped that conversation. "Hey guys?" She glanced between her father and his girlfriend who were awkwardly standing in the middle of the living room, both with bright red faces. "Hmm, what cookie jar were you two sticking your hands into, huh?" The evening went on without incident. Dinner was lovely and the need to turn in early became evident as Mattie could barely sit through dessert without yawning.

0155 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

Fingers frantically glided over a computer keyboard, bringing to life what Vukovic thought was his best opening statement ever. He hit the 'enter' key with his index finger and then sat back to admire his work, "MacKenzie, you're going down." To say that he held a grudge was an understatement. While most officers were going home for the holidays, he was stuck on the damned ship with bonehead cases and a need for a stiff drink in the comfort of his own home. Having a good looking woman around wouldn't be a bad thing either. True, the legal man (woman) who was assigned to him had shown interest, but he wasn't about to piss off the Captain more than his presence already did.

A hard rap to the hatch nearly had the chair come out from under him. "Shit." Getting his bearings, he stood, opened and peaked to find a stoned faced MP standing in front of him. "Yes Sergeant?"

"I am sorry to disturb you, sir. Master Sergeant Cisco wishes to speak to you." The man barely blinked when he spoke and it was obvious to Vic that he was a little more than reluctant to disturb an officer because of some prisoner. "He said it was urgent." There was a hidden mock in the way the Sergeant spoke. This Marine wasn't proud that a prisoner the likes of Cisco wore such a sacred uniform. "He hasn't been eating, sir. . .Talk to him so he won't drop on you before the hearing." Furthermore, he couldn't understand why someone would request a case so vehemently as Vukovic had. He figured it was probably some Squid tactic to make nice with Marines.

Vic rolled his eyes. "It's always something isn't it?"

"You _are_ his defense, sir. . .I suppose he has a right to ask for you. Even at this time." The Sergeant nodded and then made a perfect about face and disappeared down the corridor.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to get down to the bowels of the ship. Being so tired, he figured grabbing a cup or two of coffee would be a good idea. "Sergeant, you can go. . .I'll send for you when I am ready." From Cisco's posture, it was obvious this was a matter that needed privacy. The cell was opened, so he stepped inside and chose to sit on a metal chair right across from Cisco who was sitting on his bunk. "Here, Clarence, I brought you some coffee."

Cisco took the coffee, greedily drinking down half of it. "Thank you, sir. . .It's appreciated."

"The Sergeant says you haven't been eating. . .Is this true?" Vic studied the man with much curiosity. When Cisco was brought in, the man was like a caged lion. He was screaming obscenities, cursing the world, acting every bit the credent that Vic knew he was. Hoping to settle the man down, Vic had asked for the ship's chaplain to spend some time with the accused. "Sergeant? Answer me."

"Thank you for having the Padre speak to me, Commander. . .It was enlightening." His head was cast downwards in shame. That stony, uncaring look from before had disappeared. This was a man seeking forgiveness and not from his peers but from a higher power. "I was thinking. . ." Sighing, he lifted his head up. "Maybe. . .maybe we should stop this court thing. . .I'm guilty, no need to waste the tax payer's money to figure this out. . ."

"What?" Surprised would be a certain understatement. This wasn't the same man he'd interrogated two days ago. No, that man had criminal written all over him, this man. . .what the hell had the Padre done?

Cisco shook his head. "I mean. . .I need to be punished for what I did. . .for the sins I've committed, for the people I've tainted. . .for the lives I've taken." His words were genuine and true. "Speaking to Chaplain Adams did me good. . .When I was a boy I. . ."

If Vic's mouth were able to open any farther, his jaw would have hit the floor. "Are you nuts!"

"No, just hear me out."

"Hear you out?" Vic snorted. "I am not going to _hear you out_, Clarence. . .You're insane if you think you are just going to roll over."

"I need to be punished. . ." Cisco held up his hands, showing the other man the shiny cuffs as a sign that this form of punishment wasn't enough. When Vic responded with the same flabbergasted expression, he attempted to finish the story. "When I was younger, I wanted to be a priest. . .A lot of things didn't go my way and I fell into the wrong crowd."

_Oh God, not another one of these loonies. _This wouldn't be the first or last time a person suddenly wanted to 'repent' when faced with the reality of being locked away for good. "I had a rough childhood too, I know what it can do to people. . .That's why I want to help you out. . . You don't deserve to be locked up." He did have his own rough childhood, but Vic's, unlike the Sergeant's, was all his own doing. His parents were extremely well off and all he could do was cause trouble to the point that he wound up before a judge with two options – jail or the Navy. Vic had cleaned up somewhat, but that impulsive, vindictive and sick side never quite went away.

Cisco stood up, moving as close to Vic as possible. "_God_ spoke to me. . .He said he would forgive me if I 'fessed up. . .And I need that. . .I don't want to live like this anymore. . .I need to be punished."

"God spoke to you?" Vic laughed hard. This was the most preposterous thing he'd ever heard a client say. "Sergeant, we need to win this case and you playing the 'God card' isn't going to help much." Taking out his notebook, he paged over to the questions he'd jotted down to practice with the man. "Now sit down and let's go over the questions I am going to ask along with the potential questions the prosecution will ask."

In the brief moments that he and Vukovic had gone over the case, it was clear that there would be a skit of sorts. They would prepare a series of tells and lies that could be used to destroy the prosecution. Before Cisco was willing to play. Now, he wasn't so sure. "I'll be lying, sir. .. Isn't that. . .that's not legal."

"It's called perjury and you suddenly have an attack of conscience? After the things you did?" The list of offences was long and distinguished. It was a miracle the man was even allowed into the service. "I need this win, Cisco, and I will do whatever it takes."

Deflated, the man finally sat down and looked away in shame. "I don't want to."

Something in Vic suddenly snapped and it was like being transported to fifteen years ago in the heyday of his misspent youth. He launched himself at the Sergeant, grabbing the man by the lapels and pinning him to the steel bars behind him. "Listen to me you idiot. . .Do you know who's prosecuting?"

Trying to fight off the Commander was futile with cuffs, not to mention that the other man was playing dirty by pinning a knee a bit too close to his groin. "Co-Co-lonel Ma-cKenzie?" He stuttered between sharp breaths of pain.

"That's right. . .There is nothing that MacKenzie hates more than a _bad _Marine. . .She will rip you limb from limb so badly that spending an eternity in Hell will seem more pleasant." Angrily, he shoved the man into the bars again and then stepped back. "You'll rot in a cell. . .spending the rest of your life _alone_. .. You'll die _alone_ and that is something that not even _God_ can stop if she wins."

Cisco rubbed on the part of his anatomy that Vic had tried to crush. He wasn't afraid of this man, God knew that if he didn't have these cuffs Vic would have a new orifice, but the idea of being confined alone. . . "Fine. . .But, I better win."

Vic nodded. "Winning is my intention, Clarence."


	2. Of Different Relationships

Hey Gang! Hope you're all digging this! It'll be sorta slow for a few chapters - case with Vic is not all that woo hoo! The case with Harm will be fun, more on that in the next few chapters. There will also be a bit of a smutty chapter, I'll let you guys know which so that if you are interested you can e-mail me and I can send you what you missed which I can't post here. ;)

It will get angsty eventually - I'll let you know as well. ;)

Enjoy!  
Jackie

Thanks to: TomcatGM, BrittanyLS, JamieAKAaclassyone, Lisa, n.k , marineJAG, Nikki, michelle UK, LieutenantjgMegAustin, Jeanmary, pop1013, TV Angel 711, Code, starryeyes10, froggy0319, Abigailefor the reviews!

PART 2 – Of Different Relationships  
0920 Local  
Thanksgiving  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Quietly, Harm padded down the stairs with every intent of starting breakfast for his two girls. When he reached the landing, a faint sound of the television caught him off guard. "Mattie, what are you doing up so early?" Harm gave her a kiss on the cheek and then settled in next to her, draping an arm over her shoulders.

Mattie shrugged. "I've only been up for like ten minutes. . .Jake called my cell to let me know he reached Miami."

Suddenly, Harm was wide awake. "Jake? Who's Jake?" Through the years with Mattie things on the boyfriend front had been undeniably quiet. Rehab and physical therapy had taken a lot of her. It had been time consuming and painful, leaving no time for any extracurricular activities. Then there was that stint between him and Susan which had Mattie undoubtedly angry at him. Somehow, between then and now he felt as if he were missing a whole lifespan.

"Ugh." She hadn't quite anticipated telling him about the man in her life just yet. It wasn't serious - far from it - but there was something there, hiding in the woodworks. Mattie had always been strong, tough, but around Jake. . . "I didn't want to bring him up."

_Great_. Harm was paling with every second that passed. He always knew that, at some point, Mattie had to find someone for herself but having it happen totally stole the winds from his sails. "That doesn't make me feel any better, Mats. . .Where did you meet him?"

"Erm. . .ah. . .Well. . .you see."

Her lack of formulating a cohesive sentence was all the answer he needed. "Mattie, you aren't supposed to date another classmate. . .You know they can be real hardasses about tha. . ."

"I know. . .We aren't dating, Harm." At his disbelieving look she clarified. "I swear. We aren't. . ." Turning to the side, she faced him fully. "I like him. . . a lot. . .But he's. . .he's like oblivious to it, you know?"

Something about that made him angry. Mattie was a beautiful girl, smart and incredible. "Is he stupid? Or blind?"

"Funny you would mention that." She said with a chuckle. "How long have you and Mac danced around each other?" Though she didn't know all of the play by play, Jen had filled her in quite a bit. "I think you were quite _oblivious_ there yourself." Nudging him playfully, she threw her head back and laughed again with more feeling.

Alright, so she was dead on. "Look, Mac and I are different. . .Well, maybe not so different. . . I just don't want you to blow it all away for some guy, Mats."

"I'm not going to blow it all away for a guy, Harm. . ." She sighed deeply. "But, I am old enough to figure it out on my own. . And, I want to figure it out on my own. . .You don't have to worry."

He knew that, really he did, but she was his daughter, worrying came with the territory. "I know. . .I'll try not to freak out."

"Good." She snuggled against him and suddenly remembered a picture she had seen of the Annapolis alumni. It was odd actually and she'd fretted for a while as to why Harm hadn't mentioned it to her. "Why didn't you tell me that Mac graduated from Annapolis? And why doesn't she wear the school ring? Is it a Marine Corps thing?"

Okay, so that completely threw him for a loop. "Woah, woah. . .What are you talking about? Mac never went to Annapolis. She graduated from OCS."

Mattie sat up and stared at him. Pictures didn't lie and the one she had seen at school clearly showed Harm, Mac and two other guys sitting together in the courtyard. "Harm, I saw the picture of you and Mac at school. . .She was a student, she was wearing the uniform."

"Mac was never. . .Oh. . . _Diane._" God, how long had it been since he even thought about her? _Really_ thought about her. Something about that night on the docks with Mac had put that ghost to rest and helped him heal. He swore he would never forget and yet, between that point in time and the present, that is exactly what he had done. Harm had long since stopped seeing Mac as Diane. They were nothing alike save for their appearance. For that matter not even that was really exact if one would know the women intimately as he did. Diane's smile was something that couldn't quite compare to Mac's. The Marine's smile was genuinely beautiful and charming. Her voice was different too, with a hint of sexiness and mischief where Diane's had been more girly and flirty. Their touches were completely different. While Diane's touches were friendly in nature and Mac's. . .God, those always set him on fire. Even from the first moment they met, there was a heat between them that hadn't been between him and Diane. He was never really _in love_ with Diane. Sure, he loved her as something more than a friend, but it was her death that caused him to believe he was in love when he wasn't.

"Harm?" Concerned, Mattie placed a hand on his arm and shook slightly. "Who's Diane?"

This was a story that he wished would just stay dead and buried. He respected Diane and cared greatly, but it was in the past and he knew, from experience, that things of the past shouldn't be part of your future. "Diane Schonke is the woman you saw in that picture. . .It's not Mac." Harm didn't even wait for her to comment, it was just easier to get it over with. "I know, they look the same. . .But, I swear, they are two different women."

"You sure?"

Harm nodded. "One hundred percent. . .They aren't even related. . .Diane was murdered several years ago." He blurted out and braced himself for that movie picture like image that played in his head. It was still vivid in his mind after all of these years, seeing Diane on the stretcher inside a thick black bag. "She was the crypto officer aboard the Seahawk. . .An officer was making sexual advances at her and when she threatened to. . .to report him, he decided to silence her. . . permanently. . .I was put on the case and was even a suspect since I was. . .too close for NCIS' liking."

"Oh God, I'm. . .I'm sorry." She ran a hand up and down Harm's back, wanting to ask what she knew was none of her business. Curiosity got the best of her. There were so many questions now, a lot of them pertaining to the woman upstairs and what her place was in Harm's life. Was Mac just a replacement for this Diane person? Something about that creeped Mattie out immensely. "Were you. . .I mean, did you two. . .?"

"Yes, Diane and I dated. . .exclusively for a little while. . .We even served together. . .She was instrumental in getting me back on my feet after my crash." He smiled slightly. Diane had busted his chops and stuck by him every step of the way until he managed to get his life out of standstill. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have been a lawyer. . .He would have never met Mac. "We decided to see other people for a while. . .When she was in port or when I headed out to sea, we'd see each other. . .It was like if. . .if things never changed. . .We were supposed to meet that weekend. . .To discuss the future. . .We never got the chance."

"You loved her?" Mattie was strangely angry with him, that if his answer was towards the positive side, he could have just taken on another woman because he looked like a flame from his past.

"Yes, but. . .It took me a very long time to see that I wasn't _in love_ with her. . .We shared a lot of great moments, but. . .relationship wise, sometimes we couldn't connect. . .Out of all of the women in my life, she should have been the one to understand what flying meant to me and she didn't. . .Pilots were always like some big joke to her." He never understood why that was exactly, but according to Diane the real workers were on the ship, not the jet jocks that flew out, blew up a few airstrips and then came home to a hot meal and a comfy bed while the others slaved over computers and machinery.

Mattie sighed. "Yea, a lot of people find it stupid that I want to fly." She didn't let that discourage her, if anything it fueled her drive more. "Does Mac know?"

Harm shook his head. "Mac knows. . .They never met, of course, but Mac saw a picture once. I think it threw us for a bit of a loop, she spent nearly two years without knowing why I tended to act. . .different around her."

"Different?"

This was tricky to explain without people getting the wrong ideas. There were no two ways about it, Mac was Mac and Diane was Diane. "If she was quietly working on something and I would look at her. . .the memories would flood back. . .But then, there would be some quirk that is uniquely Mac and it would snap me out of it. . .If anything it was Mac that helped me say goodbye." Or was it more of a 'hello?' It doesn't really matter who she thought he was kissing, it was their _first_ kiss and nothing could ever replace that. Mac may have been correct in her assumption that he was kissing Diane, but when they broke apart it wasn't Diane he was thinking of, only the Marine across from him wearing Naval summer whites. "I'm not with Mac because she looks like Diane. . .I'm with Mac because I love her and have loved her for a very, very long time."

"What was it about Mac that made you fall in love?" They'd discussed _some_ personal issues during the years they'd spent together, but seldom did questions of love abound.

Harm grinned, that was an easy question. "Mac's like. . .like. . .God, this is going to sound awfully dramatic. . .but. . ." He couldn't help the silly expression that appeared on his face. He was in love. "She's like air. . .Something you need to survive. . .There are so many things about her. . .She's strong and yet fragile. She's sexy, womanly. . .Mac's incredibly smart. . .Has a killer smile and when she laughs I feel something in here." He pressed his hand to his chest and sighed. "I just. . .I didn't see it, or maybe I did but I knew how screwed up I was and didn't want to destroy her. . .I thought that if I kept her away from me she'd be safe. . .I just never thought she'd wind up going to another man. . .I've lost Mac too many times. . .and I'm not making that mistake again. . .She's the other half of me." He couldn't help but grin at Mattie's love struck expression and only imagined that she was dreaming of this Jake character telling her the same things. "If you tell anyone I said that. . .yer dead."

Mac was tempted to interrupt at the beginning of the conversation when questions that she wasn't sure she wanted answers to, came out of Mattie's mouth. Instead, she sat down on the landing, about to hear the conversation without being too surprised at Harm's answers. He loved her, she knew that wholeheartedly. She'd also believed what he said about him not seeing Diane when he looked at her. Now, there was another concern that had nothing to do with their relationship and yet, she needed to be part of it.

"Now, about Jake. . ." Harm continued, chuckling at Mattie's deer in the headlight look. "Mats, I trust you, I do. . .I just don't trust anyone else."

Neither did Mac for that matter. She'd thought there was a good head on her shoulders when she wound up having the affair with Farrow. Damnit, at one time she'd even had the hots for Chegwidden, what the hell was up with that? Not that AJ wasn't good looking, he was a babe, but, c'mon! It concerned her the lengths that Mattie would go to see this boy or vice versa. The girl had a promising career in the military and Mac wanted to make sure no one sabotaged that. Standing up, she finally made her way down the steps, stopping to see Mattie and Harm hugging. "Great! Just great!" She shot out in mock anger, frightening both Mattie and Harm. "A younger woman and in _my_ own house!"

Mac walked her way over to the coffee table, sat on it and threw a hand over her eyes dramatically. "Oh woe is me."

Harm bit back a chuckle. "Yea, well. . .You weren't getting out of bed, so I moved on to bigger and better things."

"Ewww. That's gross. . .I mean, you are cute and all, but. . .Eww." Making a face, Mattie pulled away from Harm's embrace and slid to the end of the sofa.

Placing a hand over his heart Harm sighed and then turned to Mac. "Love, I swear, nothing happened. . .Could you ever forgive me?"

She stared at him for a moment and placed a hand on her chin as if she were thinking over the situation. "Yea, well. . ." Before finishing the sentence, Mac lunged at Harm, pinning him back onto the sofa as she slid onto his lap. "Hello there, sailor. . .Morning."

"Morning." Harm grinned as Mac's lips met his. It was a tame kiss. . .erm, slightly tame.

Mattie giggled. "You two, get a room."

"We. . .Have. . .One." Harm punctuated between words. He gave Mac a final smooth and then, reluctantly, stopped their kisses. "We do have to start preparing the food for the party."

"After breakfast?" Mac offered, acting all girlish, batting her eyebrows in attempt to get him to cook breakfast. "You know, we won't be eating until later today. . .and we need a big breakfast to tied us over so that we can stuff ourselves later." She licked her lower lip in anticipation for Harriet's famous turkey. Even better, Harm was making his famous glazed ham. Yes, this Thanksgiving was going to be finger licking.

If there was one day that Harm's aversion to meat was nonexistent, it was Thanksgiving. The flyboy had been known to consume hearty portions of Turkey and Ham. To be fair, his aversion was really only to some read meat and greasy burgers. "That was my idea until a Marine Colonel decided to come and sit on my lap."

"My, my, my Captain, you do all sorts of odd things don't you?" She slowly tried to remove herself from his lap, only to receive a soft smack on her six for her troubles. "Ouch! Captain, beware. . .Marine on warpath." Mac threw over her shoulder with a saccharine sweet smile as she disappeared into the kitchen.

When Harm turned to Mattie to get a reaction, he only got mutiny. Mattie threw her hands up in surrender and nodded towards the kitchen. "Hey, don't look at me, I'm not going to piss off some Marine to side with a Sailor."

"Traitor!"

Mattie shrugged. "Survival, sir. . .Survival."

Oh yes, Mattie and Mac. . .They were going to be the duo to contend with alright. Harm didn't mind, in fact, he welcomed the time spent with his two girls.

1935 Local  
Robert's Residence  
San Diego, California

"Unca Harm! Auntie Mac!" The two little tornados known as Alex and Amy bowled into their aunt and uncle with Jimmy hot on their heels and AJ coolly leaning against the wall. "Look, Unca Harm, Aimes and I match." Alex said with a bright smile as he pointed to his twin sister.

Harm grinned. "I can see. . .You look very cute."

"What about me Uncle Harm?" Jimmy asked as he toyed with the tie he was wearing. "I'm wearing a tie like a big boy. . .AJ didn't want to." He turned towards AJ and stuck his tongue out, then quickly ran out of the room following his brother and sister.

AJ shrugged. "I don't like ties."

"Neither does your father." Mac said with a chuckle, recalling a time too many when Bud had certain malfunctions with his ties. "Are you going to give me a hug or am I going to have to take you hostage?" AJ had been going through that awkward 'girls are icky' stage which was both amusing and annoying. His hugs to anyone of the fairer sex now only lasted all of two seconds.

"Uncle Harm, when are we going flying?" Ah, yes, onto bigger and better things. _Big boy_ things. "You promised to take me flying."

Harm had indeed promised. Since finishing with Patterson, both Harm and Mac had tried to spend more time with the Roberts Clan. He had a lot of time to make up for and Mac loved those children as if they were her own. "The weather hasn't been too good for it, buddy. . .But I'll tell you what, next weekend I have to go fix her up, how about you come with me?"

Almost immediately that broke AJ out of his 'funk' and that long gone toddler excitement was back. "Can I really!"

"Yup, but you need to ask mom and dad, okay?"

AJ rolled his eyes. "Uncle Harm, I'm a man. . .Mom and dad _trust _me." With that, he gave his godfather a high five and ran out of the room to check on the 'babies' as he called his siblings.

Mattie sighed happily. It was nice being home and having a family, albeit unorthodox, to celebrate the holidays with. She was going to miss them during Christmas, but the thoughts of doing an 'adult' thing by skiing with classmates was a welcomed change of pace. "Jen!" Spotting Jennifer Coates with a man. . .a good looking man, made her stop dead in her tracks. An amused grin sprawled across Mattie's face. Ah, so this was the man that Jen had continuously e-mailed her about? "This must be Corporal Lane." She resisted the urge to mercilessly tease Jen and use the infamous 'she always talks about you' sentence. Although, not saying it was just as bad.

Marine Corporal Joshua Lane was a bona fide sweetheart, the type that seemed more like an alter boy than a Jarhead. He was sweet, kind and gentle but, when called to, could turn lethal. From the moment Jen walked into the office, he was hooked. They spent many lunch breaks together and, through the last few months, things had turned interesting. Despite Mac's suggestion to ask him out, Jen had waited and finally got the old fashioned wooing she was looking for. "You must be Captain Rabb's daughter Mattie." He took her hand and shook gently. "Jen talks a lot about you. . .I have to say, you're an inspiration." Sighing, he glanced down and then back up, stealing himself as he told his own story of victory. "I got in a pretty bad accident when I was fourteen, everyone said I would never, ever walk again. . .and here I am. . .lean, mean, fighting Marine."

After making most of the rounds in the Roberts' home (a good number of the staff was invited) Harm leaned against a doorframe, studying the exchange between Jen, Joshua and Mattie. "Mac? Who's that?" He remember seeing the man a few times in the office, but never thought that he was _this _close to the clan.

Mac grinned. If there was anyone other than Mattie which Harm felt the need to be a father figure over, it was Jennifer Coates. "That's Corporal Joshua Lane – Josh to his friends."

"Uh-huh, why is he drooling all over Jen?" To Josh's credit, he wasn't drooling, just respectfully noticing Jen's beauty.

"They like each other. . .He's a good kid, Harm. . .Good head on his shoulders. . . Wants to fly Hornets." She figured that applying to Harm's pilot nature would do some good.

It didn't. "Want me to talk to him. . .Captain to Corporal?"

Mac rolled her eyes, _men._ "Naw, I already gave him my Marine Colonel 'hurt her and I'll kill you' speech. . .They tend to listen more to their own kind than you squids." Chuckling, she placed a hand on Harm's arm and steered him away before he embarrassed Jen. "C'mon, _dad_, you aren't going to embarrass the poor girl. . .and, besides, you should worry more about Josh than Jen."

Harm managed to restrain himself, vowing that, eventually, he and Josh would have a little chit chat.

0356 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

The COD had been tied onto the deck for the last six hours with no hopes of heading out until the storm cell around the carrier calmed. From what little he understood about meteorology, it would probably be in the morning. It was the perfect place to hide out, especially after paying some deckhands to keep an eye out for anyone who could possibly cause some trouble. Vic released the bottom hatch and slipped in carefully closing the aircraft. With a defeated sigh, he lounged across two seats and reached under, feeling around for some contraband. "Aha!" He exclaimed, pulling out a medium sized bottle of vodka. Despite the fact that he'd been drinking since age thirteen, that bottle was enough to put him into sweet oblivion for a few hours.

Since this new case had been thrown in his lap – mainly because Sergeant Cisco just so happened to be serving on the ship when his involvement with narcotics was discovered and Vic was the only JAG on board with experience – life had been a blur. He had to cap off most of the crappy, opened cases which meant, he spent a lot of time litigating between the accused, the JAGs back home and. . .unfortunately for him, the Captain.

Needing assistance in the form of a legal man that actually cared about the law (his current legal man was mainly for show, but had no idea how to even file) Vic decided to speak with the Captain – A conversation that didn't turn out too nice at all. . . .

(Flashback)

"_Commander Vukovic, I hear you needed to see me."_

_The worst part of the whole meeting was that it was done at the bridge and not the Captain's which afforded Vic a little privacy. No, here he was pleading his case with both officers and enlisted hanging on their every word. He stood ramrod straight, staring out of the huge Plexiglas windows out to the sea beyond. "Yes, sir. . .It's about the legal office. . .We're backed up and now I've been handed the Cisco court-martial. . .it's a bit. . .taxing, sir."_

"_Your point?" Nope, Captain Stacey Loftness really couldn't stand the younger man and let it show any chance he got. He was civil with Vukovic, making sure not to let his disdain fly over the deep end, but his civility only went so far. How did the man manage to pass law school? _

"_Sir, I need assistance. . .maybe for a week or two. . .Or until the Cisco case is done with. . .Permission to call Joint Legal Services Southwest and request backup." He'd hoped Mac would send Mayfield. Things between the two of them were far from being over. Sure, the relationship had gone to hell in a hand basket, but, any chance he got to bug Tali was to be taken._

_Loftness peeled his eyes away from the horizon and just studied Vukovic for a moment. The man oozed legal weenie and while there were a few lawyers that he respected, Vic wasn't one of them. "I hear you worked with Rabb once, right?. . .Neither he nor MacKenzie would have ever asked for assistance. . .They would have gutted it out. . .Request DENIED. . .get back to your quarters and I don't want to see you again until you have some defense strategy lined up for Sergeant Cisco, understood?"_

_Vic could do nothing more than oblige, but he wasn't out of options. The SECNAV would hear about this as soon as they hit port. "Understood, sir."_

(End flashback)

"Stupid bastard." He cursed under his breath, taking a long pull from the bottle. "Stupid bitch." To make matters a little worse, he'd obviously mistaken the flirting going on between him and his legal woman. When her voluptuous body arched over the desk, brushing intimately with his, Vic couldn't help himself. To say that his touch was inappropriate was an understatement and Petty Officer Janna Stevens' slap made it clear she was a little less than interested.

Vic laughed without emotion, choking on a sip of alcohol that went down the wrong tube. The woman had agreed not to press charges, that it had been her fault as much as his. That maybe they had been working together a little too closely. She also told him, in no uncertain terms, that life as a legal man was out of the question and that, if Vic so much as looked at her again, she would press charges. You didn't have to be a Rhode scholar to know when to back off and never touch that subject again.

That posed another problem as a second conversation with the Captain (who was having a Thanksgiving dinner along with the senior officers at the time) proved to be a bad idea. He was chewed out for this one and asked (twice no less) if he had treated the Petty Officer inappropriately. Vic lied, of course, and in the end wound up with nothing to show for it more than a "we'll see."

Yes, life on the Henry was sucking for him, but there was always a light at the end of the tunnel and that would come in the form of one Sarah MacKenzie who was due to grace him with her presence on Monday. He loved squaring off with her. That gullible mistake she had made their first time out was rather pleasant. No one could deny that, as a Senior officer, she should have run the show better. But she hadn't and thankfully, no one knew the difference between a real witness and the actor he hired.

Since then, he knew that Mac was always on her toes when it came to him. In Vic's mind that made her all the more vulnerable and susceptible to losing. God, wouldn't that be nice? Causing the big bad Colonel Bitch to look like a fool in front of her peers? It was just his luck that the case went directly to her office. It still sucked, he really would have preferred the mundane cases to something so public, but it would do and he would embarrass her immensely.

When the bottle had been dried, he stumbled upwards, steeling himself against the suddenly violent pitch of the deck. The storm was getting closer. His stomach lurched with the waves, maybe the alcohol wasn't a good idea? There went another couple of days spent in sick bay. Great, now Loftness had something else to complain about.

2145 Local  
Roberts' Residence  
San Diego, California

During the festivities, Harm had noticed Mac slipping out the door to the front porch and grinned. There was almost a sense of déjà vu that took him to a time so long ago. This time he had someone who would always love him and she did too. "Excuse me." He told Lt. Commander Johnson then quickly discarded the wine he had been sipping by placing it on a nearby table. Gently, he pulled on the door to close it once he stepped outside. When he found her, Mac was leaning against the railing, glancing out into the chilly night, a red shawl covering her figure.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to follow." Her voice held a soft, flirty tone that startled Harm who didn't realize she knew he was there. "It's so beautiful tonight." The stars were shining brightly as they always did on chilly nights.

Harm came up behind her, then wrapped his arms around her waist. "You're beautiful tonight." He kissed her shoulder then turned his head to nuzzle a particular spot on her neck. "Did you come out here so that we could have a little rendezvous?"

She turned in his arms and grinned. "You make it sound so risqué. . .But yea, I just wanted you all to myself for a little bit."

"Hmmm." Lowering his head he kissed her gently, then rested his forehead on hers. "So how long did I take?"

Mac thought slightly, a timid smirk gracing her features. "Nineteen seconds. . . just two seconds quicker than last time."

Surprised would definitely be the term to describe what he was feeling. "You timed it that night?" He released Mac, allowing her to walk a few paces away from him and settle herself on the small bench against the wall.

She bent over, fixing the strap on her heels which had slipped slightly. "I guess I was hoping you'd follow. . .We had a lot to talk about. . .I wanted you to be my hero, save me from my mistake."

"I wanted that too. . .But, I wanted you to be happy even if it was with Mic." Damnit, what he should have done that night was take her into his arms and kiss the daylights out of her. Wait, he _had_ done that, but their sense of duty and loyalty never let it go further. "It was one hell of a kiss though." A kiss that had sustained him for the years to come. A kiss that was branded on him like a tattoo.

Mac smiled, then stood, meeting him halfway. "It was powerful. . .I never thought it was possible to feel pain, pleasure, happiness, anger and love all at one time." The heat of his gaze drew her in as it always had but with an intensity that only transcended between lovers. And she loved him, more than words could say. Drawn to the need to savor his lips, she pulled his head down and kissed him passionately.

When they broke apart she could see the love, lust and mischief in Harm's eyes. "And what did _this_ kiss make you feel?"

"Love." They kissed again, this time deepening it even more until a distinct sound of the door opening brought them to the present.

Jen Coates tried to keep a straight face but it was nearly impossible. All of the years that she had witnessed this fight of wills between two of her favorite people and now. . .It made happiness just this much attainable for her. "Sir, Ma'am. . .Commander Roberts is looking for you, we're about to serve dessert." She shivered slightly and glanced out into the clear night. "Oh, getting chilly out here."

Harm chuckled as Mac's head came to rest on his chest, hiding away the blush which was creeping up her cheeks. "Yes it is, Jen. . .We'll be right in." Reaching down, Harm placed his index finger on Mac's chin and slowly raised her head up. "Sarah, you'll have someone who will always love you."

"And you have someone who loves you." They kissed again, passionately, longingly, erasing yet another mistake of the past and solidifying their future. When they broke apart, she took his hand and tugged him into the house. "C'mon flyboy. . .My stomach is grumbling for that apple pie you made."

Making a comment on how she had stuffed herself during dinner would have been appropriate at the time, but Harm was too busy thinking ahead to bigger and better things. Like the whip cream he'd be licking off her body later in the evening provided he could sway her shyness of getting frisky under the same roof as his daughter.


	3. December Once Again

**GO STEELERS! CONGRATS TO THE TEAM AND STEELERS FANS:) GREAT GAME!**

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'm tyrin got get back to you, sorry if I don't do it ASAP, almost done with the academic portion of school and working on a particuarly tricky part for the next week. Hopefully, I can get back in the swing of doing these stories quicker once I've taken our school exit exam. :)

Have a great week!  
Jackie

**PART 3 – December Once Again**

1230 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

"Damnit." Harm cursed softly, then removed his jacket, hanging it on the coat hanger next to the door. Glancing around the house was almost like stepping into the twilight zone, literally. He had headed towards the office on their day off to make sure some paperwork was taken care of. It had only taken a few hours and, in that time, Mac had managed to turn the inside of their home into Santa's Workshop. There were lights, poinsettias, snow men, Santa Clause, garland, candles – the works. The only thing missing was that stupid Christmas Tree. Sadly enough, it wasn't even December. That month was _still_ a week away.

Daring to step further into the house, he found that everything had been removed from the top of the entertainment center which now favored an old snowy village complete with roads, cars and tiny people doing all sorts of activities. The streetlights for the village were illuminated as the lights in the house and various other articles. "Great." He sighed and decided to make a quick retreat upstairs, hoping that hadn't been decorated. The last thing he wanted to see when he walked into the sanctity of their home office, was some goddamned set of Christmas lights blinking!

Harm _hated _Christmas. He'd celebrated it almost as an obligation to those around him but never quite saw the fascination. A sacred holiday with a religious meaning had been turned into the mass profiting time of the year for retailers. People's ideas of 'Christmas spirit' was yelling at another patron who stole their parking space. And then the fact that parents _lied _to their children for the beginning of their lives over a fictitious figure who brings them presents. . .please – what a crock.

Of course, it would be easier to just admit the real reason for him hating the Holidays so much. A reason that lay in the Taiga, millions of miles away, covered with ten feet of snow decomposing in an unmarked grave. He took a deep breath and let it out. Christmas sucked, period.

Scrooge, Mac had called him once as an innocent joke, only she didn't know the half of it. Yes, she understood, her being in Russia when he discovered the truth about his father allowed her to. But, in reality, no one really understood. While people were merrily celebrating, all he wanted to do was lock himself up somewhere and cry himself to sleep. The first thing that always came to mind was being five years old and begging Santa to bring his father home. It never happened and at such a young age, Trish was forced to tell her son that Santa Clause was an imaginary being. If he wasn't crushed enough that destroyed all of his love for the Holiday season.

Frowning, Harm headed out of the office, choosing to take a seat on the landing of the stairs. He hated Christmas and in his forty plus years, there had only been three which had been pleasant – the first one occurred several years back when he'd kissed Mac under the mistletoe. It was the same year that his brother had been set free. Then there was that Christmas when Mac had given him the best present ever in the form of Mattie Grace. The third was the night he'd found out about Mac's accident and that she'd lived despite the fact that her vehicle was totaled. That was to be a new beginning for them and yet, somehow, things went back to status quo. Nevertheless, the hours they spent together on Christmas Eve and day had been lovely, sweet even. He'd felt like her best friend again. Funny that the good times seemed to always revolve around Mac and now he wanted nothing more than to kill her for the sudden urge to decorate. "Damnit."

All other Christmases had been horrible to him. They were usually spent with people he didn't want to be with - mainly women, who could only make him forget about his loneliness for a time, but never really erase it. Of course, there was also that one Christmas eve when a trip to the wall had brought him face to face with a mysterious woman, a former singer for Bob Hope's USO tours who knew his father. Though the woman didn't say as much, it was obvious she and Harm senior had _something_ that went above friendship. It saddened him to know that he'd cheat on his mother and, if Harm were truly honest, he never wanted to know just how human his dad was.

Did he love his father less? Yes, sometimes he believed that little detail created a void in his heart. He'd never told anyone, not even Mac, about that incident. She was the only one that would have understood what it meant, but he just didn't want his father's legacy to be cheapened. It was bad enough that he'd had another child with another woman. Maybe the problem was that he couldn't hold a grudge against either occurrence. . . He wasn't too sure he wouldn't do something similar. He just hoped he'd never have to find out.

Angrily, Harm wiped at a tear that had, stubbornly, decided to fall. "Harm?" Great, Mac had to pick _that_ moment in time to descend the steps.

Worried, she placed the box of ornaments on the landing and then came to sit next to him. "Hey, what's wrong?" She could count with one hand the amount of times she'd seen Harm cry. His trying to hide the tears only made it more obvious. "Harm, you're worrying me. . .Talk to me."

"I hate Christmas." He said in a rush, stopping only to pinch the bridge of his nose, it still didn't stop a stubborn tear or two. "I hate Christmas. I always have. . .I probably always will. . .And there is nothing anyone could do to make me change my mind about that." He wanted to ignore the whole holiday altogether but on the street, in stores, hell even the bank was dripping with holiday cheer. "I hate it all. . ." He fingered a piece of the shimmering, red garland which was draped over her shoulders and sighed deeply. "I can't stand all of this. . .It's why I never decorated my apartment. . ." He had decorated once or twice, the last time when Renee had pretty much forced him to do it. And then, for Mattie, while they were in the UK. But, even then, they had a tiny tree and barely any decorations. "You should have told me you were going to do this."

Now it was Mac who looked as if she were about to cry. The holiday hadn't really meant much to her until she'd had people to share it with and that didn't occur until she was transferred to DC. The annual Roberts' parties were fun, as were the annual shopping excursions with Harm. Before that, she was a Mrs. Scrooge of sorts. Today though, when she woke up, the only thing she could think of were Christmas, Harm and decorating the house that they were living in _together_.

Mischievous thoughts of making love with just the subtle glow of Christmas lights had kept her both occupied and concentrated. She'd even bought a special Mrs. Clause type of negligee and Santa Clause boxers for Harm with a Santa hat. It never occurred to Mac that he hated the holiday so much. "I ah. . ." With a sigh, she took a quick glance at the house – she'd done a lot of work. The only thing missing was the tree which she hoped to pick up with him. "I guess I could bring it down. . .It's no big deal." But it was a big deal to her. This was their first Christmas together as a couple, it was supposed to mean something. Yes, she was bending, not standing her ground, being very un-Marine like. Mac knew that his father's disappearance had taken a toll on Harm through the years and if removing the Christmas cheer from their home helped, she'd do that and swallow her pride. "It's okay." She smiled slightly, removed the garland from around her neck and tossed it in the box with the ornaments before descending the steps into the living room.

Upset, she stood there with her hands on her hips, trying to figure out where to start. Taking the box which they came in, she set her sights on the village, working on moving the entertainment center to remove all of the lights from the back. She was startled when Harm's hand pulled back her own. Whirling around, she shot him an odd look. "What?" He didn't answer, only shook his head. "Harm, I'm not going to leave these things hanging around if it makes you upset. . ."

"Mac. . ." He had a change of heart. If Harm agreed with himself that his only happy holidays were with her, it was something worth embracing. "Don't. . .Maybe I just need a different perspective."

"This isn't about perspective, you went through a lot, I. . .I don't want to add to it." She really believed she should have been more sensitive to him. Mac just never realized how upset he was during the holidays.

Grinning, he pulled her to him, causing her to drop the surge protector she was trying to extricate from the wall. "We're missing a tree." Harm motioned to the spot by the window where a small table once stood. "And I want a real one, none of this plastic, pipe cleaner looking crap."

She laughed slightly. "Pipe cleaner looking crap?. . I haven't seen one of those since I was ten. . .Artificial trees are quite. . .cute." Not that she wanted one, but it was fun getting him riled up.

"Baby, grab your jacket." His arm came over her shoulders as he strolled them towards the front door. "We're gonna go get us a _real_ tree."

Three Days Later

1301 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

Wearing dark sunglasses and _still_ nursing a hang over, Vic stood on Vulture's row watching the hustle and bustle of everyday life on a carrier. This sailor wasn't a fan of ships though he rather liked docking and having a woman on each port. Past that, true Navy life wasn't for him, he'd rather preferred to remain landlocked. The COD nosily arrived right after a Harrier had been sent out and he stood, interest peaked. Mac was scheduled to arrive a little over an hour ago, but the previous COD had nothing but mail and supplies.

"With her looks and her grace. . .beauty has her way." It was impossible to prevent the sly grin that appeared at the sight of Sarah MacKenzie. Vic wasn't in love, he knew it, but there was definitely a good amount of lust that he couldn't quite squash no matter how much she humiliated him. What he didn't expect, however, was the tall, handsome, brown haired, blue eyed sailor who stepped off of the COD behind her. "RABB!" Oh yea, there came the nausea again, in spades. His stomach lurched and the contents of breakfast spilled onto the deck. This was going to be a lovely couple of days.

"Colonel MacKenzie, Captain Rabb." The Public Affairs officer, Ensign Tessa Rand, had been appointed to escort the pair. "Sir, ma'am, please follow my six, that is what the pilots refer to as their tail end."

Something about that seemed a bit too familiar. "Yes, Ensign, the Captain is a pilot, flew off of this very ship. . .It's not our first trip here." She grinned at the enthusiastic Ensign. "Lead the way."

Walking into the bowels of the ship, Harm immediately felt at home. "What?" He said to Mac who was chuckling and rolling her eyes. "You're gonna try to scam a ride, aren't you?"

Slipping off his vest, he handed it over to a Petty Officer and helped Mac with her own. "Colonel, I do not need to _scam_ a ride as you so politely put it. . .I'm a reservist. . . I see more air time than these jockeys ever will."

Raising her trademark eyebrow, she leaned against a bulkhead, waiting for the Ensign to get some paperwork that had been faxed from Bud at JLSS. "Uh huh, you're going to try and scam a ride."

"When in Rome."

"The Captain is busy at the moment with maneuvers but he would like to see the two of you for dinner at 2000 sharp." The pair followed Ensign Rand, who was disturbingly chatty about Navy facts and figures regarding the Henry, towards their staterooms. "Alright, here we are. . .Colonel, you're to the left, Captain, to the right. . .I'm sorry I couldn't put you with the other females, Colonel, we're a bit full."

Neither of them minded, really. Harm chuckled. "Aww, we'll be neighbors."

"The onboard JAG, Lieutenant Commander Vikersomething is one hatch down from you." She pointed to the left and then came to attention. "May I be dismissed?"

Mac nodded. "Dismissed, thank you. . .Vikersomething?" She finally said when the young Ensign was out of earshot. "I think I like that."

Vic's day was getting worse by the second. On the way down to his quarters, another bout of nausea brought him to his knees causing the crew nearby to carry him to sick bay. IV tubes were going into his veins, pumping fluids which hoped to stop the nausea while the onboard doctor ran several blood tests. So much for meeting with MacKenzie though, at the moment, his biggest interest was Rabb's involvement. It couldn't be purely coincidental that he was on the ship to fly, they would have sent him to a carrier on the West coast, not the East. No, if he came with MacKenzie and was wearing a uniform, it was obvious that his involvement was official business. "Ugh, this isn't good." He was hitting the nail right on the head.

By Dinner time, neither Harm nor Mac were the least bit tired. He had secured a flight on a Hornet the next day and Mac had a chance to interview Cisco which had proven to be pointless. The man was clamed up well and, to her surprise, Vukovic hadn't even shown. "I tell you _that_ alone worries me." She said, slipping past Harm as they entered the Officer's mess. "He's probably off somewhere trying to set me up."

"Yes, and you'll kick his butt." Harm wished he could have assisted her during the interview with Cisco. Their heads together usually did come up with rather plausible ideas. "Ah, there's Captain Loftness." He pointed to the corner, smiling as his former CAG waved him over. "By the way, he's the man you need to thank for getting me out of the water that night."

Mac didn't need more explaining to realize what night he was talking about. So it was Loftness she was hearing over the radio when the Viking was trying so hard to find Harm in the cold waters of the Atlantic. They crossed the mess hall, Loftness had made sure that dinner would be ready for the two of them. It had been years since he'd last seen Harm and though the two weren't exactly friends, the man's exploits in the air were legendary. "Captain, Colonel. . .Please, have a seat. . .How are things going?"

"Well, Skipper, Cisco is clamming up, but that's nothing I can't handle on the stand." Her tone and demeanor made it clear that statement was nothing but the truth. If there was one thing Mac had gotten rather good at, it was grilling people on the stand. He'd be whistling Dixie after a few questions. "Congratulations on your Captaincy, Harm here says you were a stellar CAG."

Loftness grinned. "He has to say that, it was _my _boys that pulled his sorry six out of the drink after he crashed a Tomcat into it."

Harm chuckled. "Wasn't my fault. That thing was nothing but metal and bolts which weren't attached rather well, I might add." Taking a look at the meal before them, he was pleasantly surprised that this evening they weren't having that infamous Henry mystery meat. "So, what's it like being the Captain?"

The Skipper shrugged. It really wasn't _that_ big a deal, save that he was taking over Ingles' shoes. "Many people think I don't deserve it. . .I mean, how many carriers are there based on how many people deserve to drive 'em?"

"Captain Ingles' shoes were difficult to fill." Mac stated, then took a bite of the pasta in meat sauce.

"You said it, Colonel, I didn't." While Loftness didn't mind speaking about his rise to the top, there was another issue that had concerned him which began one night in May 2001. From the way Rabb had mentioned his best friend's wedding and his tenaciousness to get the first flight off of the carrier it was obvious that these two had a little more than friendship between them. Imagine his shock to find out that this MacKenzie person was a woman. "So, Colonel. . .You were rather. . .instrumental in finding the Captain. . .Ingles just about blew a gasket when your coordinates worked. . .How'd you do it?"

"Ah. . .well." That evening hadn't been discussed much with anyone, even Harm. There were parts of it which were sketchy – parts that involved this 'gift' of hers which she wasn't sure how to control nor how to work. "Truth is. . .I don't know. . .They say you can sometimes _find_ people you are close to if they are in danger. . .It's only happened a few times, I'm glad it happened then."

Loftness was amazed. An avid fan of Sci-Fi and all things metaphysical, this interested him greatly. "What did you see? I mean, assuming you _saw_ something."

Mac sighed. It was a memory she would rather banish. God, had it given her nightmares. What if she'd been wrong that night and taken the Viking farther away from Harm? What if she never found him? She swallowed hard and it wasn't until she felt Harm's hand on hers that she sobered. "I'm. . .sorry. . .it's difficult to talk about."

"I understand. . . My apologies for making this dinner awkward." From his vantage point, Loftness could see an unwanted visitor heading towards their table. He raised a brow in amusement. Vic looked awful. "Another bout with the mal de mer, Commander?"

Mac, Harm and Loftness having dinner together didn't bode well with Vukovic. All sorts of alarms were going off in his head. "With all due respect, Captain, this is favoritism."

Loftness curiously glared at the man while Harm and Mac traded bemused expressions. "Excuse me?"

"You having dinner with the prosecution and the witness doesn't exactly look good." He was raising his voice to a Senior officer in the presence of his CO, but he didn't care. "It's favoritism and I won't let my client be railroaded."

Sighing, Loftness excused himself. "Captain, Colonel. . .I'll be just a moment. . .Commander, with me now." He was grateful that Vic walked out on his own volition for the want to drag him out by the lapels greatly increased. The Skipper had enough and though he couldn't just oust the other man, he could make his statements very clear. "Vukovic, you are lucky that I HAVE to do what the Secretary of the Navy says. If I didn't your ass would be off of this ship so fast you'd think I strapped a missile to your six. . .Not that I have to explain myself but, dinner with MacKenzie and Rabb has _nothing_ to do with favoritism and if you do lose, don't you think of pinning this on me. . .Blame it on your inadequate counsel. . .Dismissed."

Annoyed Vukovic made a less than perfect about face and stalked away mumbling something inaudible. With a sigh, Loftness headed back to the mess and their table. This was the reason he nearly reconsidered his captaincy. Leaning in, he addressed a whispered question to Mac. "Why is the SECNAV backing this kid?" Though Vic was far from being a kid, he sometimes acted like one.

"I ah, wasn't aware you knew of that." Mac paled, glancing towards Harm who just shrugged. "That little tidbit was supposed to be under wraps. Orders came from the top."

Loftness grinned. "General Creswell warned me. . .What I don't understand is why everyone is bending backwards. . .Since when is the Navy purely ruled by bureaucrats who sit behind a desk all day?"

"You know, I can check and see why Vic's so in bed with them." Harm said, though he knew the answer, people like Vic were easy to use when they had little to lose. He was the perfect spy for whatever SECNAV's office had up their sleeves. "If you ask me, they're after the Colonel."

"I agree." Loftness said with a shake of his head. It disgusted him the way the people on the Hill pushed military types around as if they were toys. "Women in power. . .Women with a lot of power. .. I mean, you could be the first female JAG. . .I think they're either trying to Trump that or make a case for it."

That sounded nice to Mac but, "I don't want to be the first female JAG, nor do I want to be some pencil pusher's go to girl. .All I want to do is serve my country the best I can in this capacity. . .I don't have an agenda."

"You know that, we know that, no one else does. . .and let's face it, you're good at what you do. . ." Harm's grin was infectious. Damn the man, she never could resist him and now, it was even harder.

Though they really weren't putting up much of a show, it was clear now just how much of a relationship Rabb and MacKenzie shared. He wisely decided not to head towards that territory. "So, Rabb, I hear you got my CAG to let you fly one of our Hornets? Don't dump this one, alright."

Next Day  
1435 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

Mac had to admit, Vic's opening statement had been solid. He'd obviously worked hard on this. However, she had an ace in the hall with information that no one could dispute. Sadly enough for Vic, his little drinking and nausea issue, had caused him to miss a meeting with Mac where valuable information could have been handed to him. Now, he stood arguing with Judge Andrew Youngblood who was known for his no nonsense attitude. "Sidebar." He placed his hand over the microphone and addressed both lawyers. "Colonel MacKenzie, why didn't you hand information earlier to Lieutenant Commander Vukovic?"

Vic's snide little grin wasn't lost on her. "Your honor, yesterday I had searched for the Commander and he was no where to be found. . .I tried again today and still he didn't appear. . .I gave him plenty of time to look over the information."

"Sir, I was a touch sick and didn't believe the Colonel would bring up such underhanded tactics. . .She and Captain Rabb are romantically involved, sir. . .and. . ."

Youngblood had heard enough. "I don't care how involved they are, Commander. .. what I care about is wrapping this case up. . .I had my six shipped out here for this and _do not_ want to spend more time than necessary on it, understood?" He didn't wait for either lawyer to answer. "Commander, will an hour be enough for you to look over the Colonel's information?"

Not nearly. "Yes. . .Thank you."

One hour later, Vukovic was no where near the place he thought he'd be in. The information Harm supplied for Mac was damning. Completely damning. It was unfair, really. And yes, everyone was right, he was a horrible lawyer. He shot Rabb and MacKenzie a murderous look as he entered the 'courtroom' and settled behind his chair. "You're screwed." He told Cisco, giving the man a good pat on the back. "Doesn't matter, right? You wanted to go down anyway." Shaking his head, he stood up and walked around towards Rabb. "Captain, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?"

"I do." This wasn't Harm's first rodeo. In fact, ever since becoming a private investigator, he'd managed to be a witness more times than he could count. Being against Vic on this, however, was truly annoying. He wasn't worry about Mac's case, it was obviously a slam dunk, he was just worried as to what type of baggage boy wonder would take out to suit his needs.

Patiently, Mac waited for Vic to sit down before she took first crack at her witness. "For the record, state your rank, name and billet."

"Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. US Navy Reserves. Commanding Officer to Squadron number eight-four-five out of San Diego." In the last year, he'd repeated that same information at least six times. He was getting tired of it.

Mac took a cleansing breath which allowed her to disassociate herself from the man across from her. He wasn't her boyfriend or lover. At the moment he was just a witness, nothing more. In some ways, she could thank him for sandbagging her that first time they went head to head. Ever since, it became easier to detach herself from her friends when they sparred. "Captain, besides being in the Navy Reserves, what is your other profession."

"I am a private investigator." From his vantage point he could see Cisco cringing. It was obvious the man had seen him once or twice, though Harm didn't recall until he checked his data records.

"Have you ever seen the accused?"

"Yes I have at a _party_ of sorts." Did those things even have a proper name? There was booze, drugs, gambling. . .everything illegal and then some at Manda's parties.

"What party? Could you elaborate?"

Harm took a breath. "I am not sure if the party had a name. . .but, basically it was a group of adults who got together for drinking, drug use, gambling and prostitution. . .all illegal activities under one roof."

Mac nodded. "I see. . .And you saw the defendant there?"

"Objection." Vic shot up, glancing over at Harm. "Your honor, how do we know that Captain Rabb _saw_ Sergeant Cisco. . .It could have been anyone with a similar look."

Judge Youngblood turned to Harm. "Captain, do you have proof that the man you saw was Sergeant Cisco?"

"Yes, your honor. . .Colonel MacKenzie has copies of my records which includes video footage stills." From the corner of his eye Harm could swear he saw Vic cringe. There was no way he was getting out of this one alive.

Youngblood turned to Mac. "May I see that information, Colonel?" Once it was received, he went over the printed pictures and sighed. It didn't appear that this case would go on for much longer and that was a good thing. "Proceed."

"Why were you at that party?"

Harm took a sip of the water in front of him which helped hide his smile. He couldn't believe they'd nailed Manda Patterson and her goons. It was a sweet victory for the goodguys. "A case took me there. . .For several months I was investigating a narcotics ring. Trying to get on the inside, I befriended the leaders' girlfriend which allowed me entry to the party."

"What was the Sergeant doing at this party?"

Not that he was watching Cisco at the time. He was a little too busy trying to get rid of Veronique so that he could chat Manda up. "During the party, I couldn't say. . .But, if he was there it wasn't something good.."

Vic stood again. "Objection your honor. . .Captain Rabb couldn't be certain of the Sergeant's activities to assume he was doing something illegal."

"Overruled." Youngblood sat him back down. "Captain, what makes you think the Sergeant was doing something illegal?"

Harm shook his head. "Because he walked out of there with a wad of cash. You can clearly see it on the stills."

Mac was satisfied. "Nothing further your honor." Now it was time to sit down and see what desperate attempt Vic would pull out of his pocket.

And he didn't disappoint, standing up before she even sat down. Vic rubbed against Mac as she made her way to the table and ignored that leering look. Standing in front of Harm he remained for a few moments, silently trying to size him up. There were many routes he could take his line of questioning, but the rule was to always ask something that you know the answer to. So, he decided to start with something rather simple and very damning. "Captain Rabb, is it not true that you and Colonel MacKenzie are romantically involved?"

As he figured, Mac was up immediately. "Objection your honor, relevance?" She nearly choked on the words. How dare that little shit bring up her relationships?

Vic turned to Youngblood. "Your honor, it's simple. . .If Captain Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie are involved it means that his testimony can be thrown out. God knows what information he went searching for in order to help his girlfriend."

Harm couldn't stay silent, not when his reputation and Mac's was involved. "That's a pretty big accusation, Commander. . .And yes, the Colonel and I are involved but, this case was in the works long before our involvement."

Youngblood's face was turning different shades of red. He would have a chat with General Creswell about the despicable acts of a desperate lawyer. "Continue, Vukovic and if you so much as try another stunt like that, I'll have you barred from all courtrooms, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." What the hell else was going to go wrong? How many more people was he going to piss off? Lately, it seemed like nothing he did was ever right. Did everyone have it in for him? Of course, if he would just change his attitude and at least try to _act_ like a good officer, such things wouldn't be a problem. Slowly, he turned towards Harm. It was clear, by the look on the senior officer's face, that the case was over. Still, he had to try. "Captain, were you drinking during that party you allegedly saw Cisco at?"

"Allegedly? Did you take a look at the stills?"

Vic glanced at his set on the table and shrugged. "They are hazy at best. . .Nothing too tangible. .. It could be anyone. . .And might I remind you that you are under oath. . .Were you drinking during the party?"

The way the younger attorney was handling this case reminded Harm of his first time out and how many ideas he pulled within minutes to try and sway the judge and jury. "Yes."

"How many drinks did you have?"

Harm shrugged. As far as he could remember it would have been, "A couple."

"How many is a couple for you, Captain?"

"_Two_."

Turning from Harm, Vic placed his hands behind his back as he paced towards the prosecution table. "Did you have anything else to drink that day?"

"No. . .I make it a rule not to drink during working hours."

Vic turned to him suddenly, eyebrow raised in mock amazement. "And yet, you _were_ at work when you drank, isn't that right."

Mac stood up. "Objection, the Commander is badgering the witness."

"Sustained."

"Captain, you were a lawyer for JAG once. . .In your opinion, is that picture conclusive evidence that Cisco was involved in illegal affairs?"

Ouch. That wasn't a question Harm could have prepared for even if he tried. To be honest, the picture was far from conclusive especially since the pin camera he wore only caught the man for about thirty seconds. "Is it conclusive? No. . .But, it's kind of odd that he's at a party where illegal activity is going on."

Stifling a grin, Vic walked slowly to the table being used as the witness stand. "Were you doing any illegal activity at the party, Captain?"

"No. .but. ."

"So, it's safe to say that not everyone there was involved in something sinister. . .Nothing further, your honor." Swiftly, he turned away, heading back to his seat with a smirk. He was pleased with himself, there was no way that any sane human being would take Rabb's picture into consideration.

Turns out though, that the picture wasn't needed. Foolishly, Vic had put Cisco up on the stand and while his line of questioning had been picture perfect, Mac's hadn't. It took only two questions for the man to start singing like a canary.

The rest was history. Cisco was sentenced to ten years, hard labor at Leavenworth and Vic was sent back to his duties which Mac was reviewing. "So far so good." She said as they sat in the legal office among several stacks of papers. It was surprising that he wasn't hitting on her or striving for one of his lewd comments. She figured the day's events must have been exhausting for him. Either that or he realized that being a prick wasn't the best way to keep his friends. The sound of the catapult being launched made her chuckle.

Harm was up there, having the time of his life while she waited for news on when the next COD would arrive. Vic glanced at her with mild trepidation. He'd always hated pilots, especially the types like Harm who would walk around like rock stars. "Captain Rabb is in his element right now, isn't he?"

"Now that's something I can't deny. . .the Captain is an excellent pilot."

Shifting in his seat, Vic put down a folder and stared at her, his head cocked to one side. "Not that you are biased."

Mac raised a brow in amusement. "When you're on a carrier and a man is outside, in a plane, playing tag with a dirty nuke in order to get it away from you and five thousand other servicemen and women, you tend to become biased, yes."

"That was him?" Flabbergasted would be the correct term to describe what he was feeling. Jesus Christ, how could he ever have thought he could compete with Rabb for Mac's affections? The guy was more than just a legend. He was practically a God. Turning back towards the computer, he typed a few words into the current report and then paused. "Why are we being civil at the moment, ma'am?. . .Normally you'd be trying to find a way to demean me and I'd be trying to find a way to. . .piss you off."

It wasn't anything in particular, really. He'd been beaten, she'd won and, as a result, a stalemate of sorts won out. It tended to happen to the bitterest of enemies. "Vukovic, I'll admit that you get under my skin and perhaps I am a bit overzealous in my directives towards you. . . I'll tell you what, why don't we try, for the sake of both of our careers, to keep this civility running?"

_No!_ His mind screamed, the sound echoing in the recesses of his thoughts. "Fine." And that was that, he gave in willingly. At least, for the moment. There was still a part of Vic's mind that never quite worked too well. The part that tended to rule him in the most inopportune of times. It was that part of his mind that Tali Mayfield feared and warned Mac about. For that part of the mind tended to invent things that were dangerous to those at the receiving ends. "Truce." Mac couldn't have known that she'd just made peace with the Devil.


	4. Couple’s Therapy

Gang! Quick news and house keeping items.

I am burnt. . .fried to a crisp, I can't even remember how to spell my name – No joke! I misspelled my last name on the Final today! Yes, what an idiot!

1. It's OVER! I am DONE with classes! YAY! I know I passed this one for sure I passed the practical, massage part. The teacher was pleased! So I start Clinic on Weds and we'll be getting extra Clinic hours working at a Chinese New Year Expo this weekend, which is good!

2. 67 Hours + 45 Patients until I graduate and go for my boards.

3. I have the comprehensive in the way. Which is bad for YOU! Why! Am I going to make you take a test! Hmmm. . .Would be a good idea. Answer me this. . .What is the sound of the controlling element for metal? Followed by: What is the source point of the yang aspect of the Jueyin system? Confusing! Good! - Anyway. .

For the next. . .two weeks or so don't expect much of an update. I need to go over six months worth of information to pass my comprehensive test for the school which is very important. I fail, I have to pay $100.00 to take it again AND it will throw back my time to take the Board exam. Bare with me, please and thank you for dealing with all of this craziness this year. You guys rock!

**Anyway. . .If you want the FULL chapter of this one, with the obviously smutty parts missing. E-MAIL ME directly or put your e-mail in the review. :D K! Good!**

Jackie – Who will soon be drunk! Yay!

**PART 4 – Couple's Therapy  
**December 1, 2010  
2125 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

"Alright, what gives?" Mac asked, finally annoyed enough with the odd looks Harm had been giving her all during dinner. "You keep shooting me these weird looks."

It wasn't as much of an odd look as it was Harm trying to figure out how to ask another favor of her. A work related type of favor which, in the past, tended to take a turn for the dangerous. While this one had similar elements, the danger factor wasn't so high. "What do you think about couple's therapy?"

He was sure Mac had never done that eyebrow thing so quickly. Thankfully she wasn't chewing on anything at the moment. Surely, she would have choked. "Couple's therapy?"

"Yes." Making her squirm was probably the wrong thing to do, but it was amusing. Hopefully she wouldn't rip him to shreds for it.

"Do you think we need it?" Mac's voice cracked terribly, her face blanching with each passing second. "Am I that out of synch with you that I just didn't notice it?" She was horrified that they would even need such a thing so soon. Maybe this wasn't in the cards? No, that couldn't be. . . "Harm?"

"It's for a case." Smirking, he studied her again, waiting for realization to kick in. Alright, so toying with her wasn't a good idea, especially about their relationship, but he couldn't help it.

"A case?" Was her snippy reply as her face took a look of slight anger. "You want us to go to couple's therapy for _a case_?" Really, hadn't his past two cases with her dictated that maybe they weren't the best team? Still, curiosity got the best of her. If Mac were truthful, it sounded sort of. . .fun? But, she couldn't be that obvious. "Dare I ask?"

Harm grinned knowing that she couldn't resist. As much as they had talked about a 'normal' and 'quiet' life together, the two of them were adrenaline junkies. "A client of ours thinks that their therapist is having an affair with his wife. . .So far, all attempts to get the two on film haven't been productive. . .Sooo. . ."

"You wanted us to go in, pretend to have problems and see if the therapist hits on me?"

Yup, there was another reason why he loved her. "Exactly."

To her credit, Mac wasn't willing to throw caution to the wind and just give in. The past dictated that certain things tended to go a bit. . .sketchy when the two of them worked on investigations together. Still, they always managed to come out alright at the end. And if Harm needed her. . . She glanced up at him, a grin replacing the frown she had earlier. "You know, this may be a bit crazy, but it sounds like fun."

Saturday  
December 4, 2010  
1445 Local  
Dr. Jeffery Hughes' Office  
Mission Valley, California

At the window of his office, situated on the top floor of a four story building, Dr. Jeff Hughes stood with a pair of binoculars, checking the scene below. The police had been called as, what appeared to be a slight fender-bender, took a turn for the worst. The accident involved a woman, conservatively dressed to the nines with a classy 'Suzy Home Maker' outfit and a gentleman that 'Yuppie Nerd' plastered all over him.

He chuckled as the woman launched herself at the man, giving him quite the beating with the purse she was holding. "Ah, never a boring day around here." To his dismay, the man and the woman, now looking more like a couple than strangers, headed towards the building. In the pit of his stomach he felt something that said this wasn't a good omen. "They can't be coming up here." There were several other businesses in the building. Wasn't there an accident lawyer on 4B?

No less than five minutes later, his secretary was paging him that Mr. and Mrs. Lawless had arrived. What stepped into his office just seconds later could be described as chaotic. The man – aka: 'Yuppie Nerd' – pulled the door open, holding it for the woman – aka: 'Suzy Home Maker.' However, the woman had other ideas and chose _not_ to walk in. "Will you go inside!" He yelled at her, earning him another smack over the head with her purse.

"Don't YELL at me!" She yelled back, yanked the door (and nearly the handle) out of his hand and held it open for him. "_You_ go inside."

The man glared at the woman and a standoff of sorts ensued. "I'm the _man_, not _you_. . .Which means _you're_ supposed to go in _first._ . . And will you stop hitting me with your flippin' purse!"

Hughes stared at the pair with great worry, surely this had to be a joke? Right? "Ah, sir, ma'am. . .there are two doors, why don't the two of you just step in at the same time." He offered, slightly perturbed. This was certainly a first. Yes, he'd had couples argue and even a wife that attempted to stab her husband, but this. . .it was going to be a long day.

With that, it was almost as if they'd realized, for the first time, that they were not alone. The woman was the first to recover with a bright smile and a complete change in demeanor. "Oh, hello. . .You must be Dr. Hughes." She crossed the room and over enthusiastically took his hand. "I am Angie Lawless, this is my husband Jessie."

Mac and Harm had worked quite hard in perfecting their dysfunctional couple routine. She was to be an overbearing, yet kind and innocent looking housewife. Harm was going for the nerdy, spineless husband who could quickly become the domineering male pig. The fake arguments they had practiced at home had them both in stitches. The idea to cause a scuffle in the parking lot was Mac's. She figured that having them seem dysfunctional even outside of the establishment might give it more of a realistic feel.

Stepping next to his 'wife,' Harm took Hughes' hand out of hers and shook a little harder than he should have. "Jessie Lawless. . .Nice office." He glanced around at the cold, yet cozy environment that Hughes called an office. It was modern looking with an all glass and metal desk and dark, masculine leather furniture. "Can we sit down? Thanks!" Neither he nor Mac waited for the good doctor to offer a seat. They headed to a rather comfy sofa and sat so close together that there was barely a seam. His hand clasped one of Mac's.

Hughes was sure he'd entered the twilight zone. Never had he seen anyone do such a quick about face. "Umm, yea. . .Just-just. . .hang on." He pointed a finger at them and disappeared to a small bathroom adjacent to the main office. If he was going to handle those two loons, he definitely needed a pick-me-up. From a hidden compartment on the side of a heavy, wooden towel rack, he extricated a small vial and mirror. Expertly, he poured out two lines and immediately took both hits. Hughes placed the paraphernalia back in its place, then stared at his reflection in the mirror. Through the years he'd become an expert at certain arts, hiding his cocaine addiction was one of them.

When Dr. Hughes stepped outside he was the epitome of a caring, concerned and understanding doctor. Fancy that. "Sorry about that. . .You caught me off guard."

Mac smiled cheekily. She needed to seem interested but hard to get. "Oh, it's fine. . .Jessie and I are used to it." Feigning annoyance, she slid her hand out from under Harm's and then removed his hand from her thigh. "Don't." She admonished, then turned towards Hughes, smiling again. Just looking at the man it was obvious that any straight woman would be interested. The pictures that Harm had in the office just didn't do the man justice. Hughes had shiny green eyes, slicked dirty blond hair and a build that could only be maintained by daily visits to the local gym.

Harm sighed dramatically, then adjusted his black rimmed glasses. The polo shirt, khaki pants and wool sweater draped over his shoulders added to that nerdish look which complimented Mac's conservative, yet slightly sexy, skirt and blazer outfit. Those who knew them as Harm and Mac would have probably thought this was some Halloween outfit. Nevertheless, at the moment, they looked their parts.

Hughes took a seat on an oversized arm chair which was situated just across from the sofa. On the side was a small coffee table that housed a secret compartment where he kept his clip board, pens and tapes from client meetings. Taking a folder which was clipped to the board, he scanned it quickly. The Lawless' had been married for a little less than a year and, according to the 'details', problems started when Jessie's job took him away from home. It was a common scenario in his profession – the caring husband stupidly spends too much time away from home – the needy wife starts to get pissed and decides to leave. Nothing uncommon about that at all. "Well, I like to start by getting some information from each of you. . .Now, I realize this must be new to the two of you, but please be patient. This is a process." Alright, so there wasn't much argument there. "I have a few rules. . .first, when one person is talking, the other is listening. Second, I need the two of you to sit on separate ends of the sofa, it avoids problems should their be a confrontation. And lastly, I will send you off with some homework to do. . . for this therapy to be a success, I expect you to do that homework and report to me in our next session. Understood?"

In unison, Harm and Mac shook their heads, agreeing. "Good, let's begin with Mrs. Lawless."

"Angie." Mac stated giving Hughes a rather cute, indulgent look. "Mrs. Lawless is my monster-in-law."

Astounded, Harm's head whipped towards Mac. Damn, that was a _good_ one. "Angie, mom is _not_ a monster, she loves you. . .If you would get your head out of your as. . ."

"Excuse me!" The therapist yelled, stopping a potential. . .hell, a sure argument from happening. "Please, no talking unless I question you and _no_ talking to each other." Maybe if he pulled out a couple of punching gloves and a ring? How long did they say they were married? Whatever, they wouldn't be lasting long. "Mrs. Lawless. . .erm, Angie. . ." _Apart from the obvious – _"Why is it that you believe you and your husband need couple's therapy."

Her deep, annoyed and somewhat, concerned sigh came out in short bursts. Mac was trying to pretend things were off kilter, a difficult feat when things were quite well at home. "Well. . ." _Alright MacKenzie, time to put on a show. _"He doesn't love me. . ."

Harm's mouth opened and closed as he feigned surprise. "But. . ." Hughes' troubled look quenched any comment.

"The only thing he cares about is his _stupid _computers. . .All day, all night, it's computer, computer, COMPUTER! On our honeymoon. . .do you know how many times we made love?"

_Oh God._ Hughes thought. _This is going to be one of those crazy marriages where they knew each other for three days before getting hitched. Why are people so stupid?_ "Doctor!" Mac's annoyed voice cut through his internal reverie. All he could do was shrug. "ONCE. We made love ONCE. . And that was on the night of our wedding, from then on. . .The man has not touched me."

Hughes turned towards Harm. "You haven't made love to your wife since your wedding night."

"Ah. . .well, we _have_. . .She's over exaggerating. . .We've made love twice since then."

This was certainly unbelievable. In fact, he would have claimed them both to be a fraud if it wasn't for that argument they'd had in his presence. "And you've been married _how_ long?"

"About a year. . .Hey, it's not that I don't want to. .. I mean, she's hot. . .it's just that."

"Work!" Mac said, reaching into her purse to pull out a hanky which she used to blotch fake tears. "He's never home. . .Also. . .Oh God!" She let the water works run, squeezing a few drops of artificial tears from a small bottle she hid under the hanky. Doing that 'female' shoulder quivering thing, seemed to always work wonders with men. Not that Mac liked to have anyone see her cry, but the few times she'd faked it, the shoulder thing was in. "He says I'm. . .that I'm. . ." For effect she drew in a shaky breath and let it out with a guttural cry. "FAT! He says that I am FAT!"

_Are you insane!_ He wanted to scream at 'Jessie' while knocking his lights out. Unable to stop himself, Hughes took a _long, good, _look at 'Angie's' curvaceous body. At first, he'd only noticed that she was attractive, but there was nothing really drawing him in. Now, as his mind shifted from being a therapist to that of a heterosexual male with needs, he noticed _everything_. Her skin tone was a slight olive color giving off an air of exotic beauty that wasn't too common with the women he normally sought after. Her legs, Hughes could tell, were the types that went on for days, probably curving into a nice, rounded behind which he could sink his teeth in. The conservative outfit covered his more favorite. . .areas of the female anatomy, but by the slight mound on her chest, it was obvious that Angie Lawless had quite a rack on her. As for her build, if that jack off thought she was fat, he definitely needed glasses or a good ass kicking. "Jessie, have you said such a thing to your wife?"

Harm shifted nervously, though they had gone over certain _arguments_, the ones that Mac was pulling out of a hat were pure genius and slightly amusing. Fat! He wasn't sure there was even an ounce of fat on her. . .and Harm would know, he'd checked various times. "Well. . ." Trailing off he turned to Mac and smiled. "You _do_ have a tendency to _wolf_ down several unhealthy meals, hon. . .That tends to add a pound or two to your tushy." He actually had the audacity to reach over and pat her side gently. "Doc, she. . .well. . .she's like a bottomless pit. . . And she doesn't work out, I mean, how am I going to look if I take a fat wife to our company get together." He let out a nerdy, snort of laughter and adjusted his glasses for good measure.

Mac, for her part, just started crying again. "See! He doesn't love me!"

"I do love you, baby." He took Mac's hand, which he pretended was covered in mucus from her tears. With a look of disgust, he placed her hand back on her lap and wiped the 'goo' off of his hand with her shoulder. This just made her cry louder. "Babe, can you tone it down?"

Hughes was horrified, which, he figured, was better than Angie's state. One thing was a problematic couple, these two made a dysfunctional couple seem like the perfect pair. Talk about work! "Let's try to get through a few more questions. . .My first sessions I like to get a feel for the couple so that I can then go home and figure out the best plane of action. . .It's almost like a military maneuver."

The words froze both Harm and Mac who found it too coincidental that he'd used the term 'military maneuver.' It was Harm who had the courage to speak first knowing it was impossible for Hughes to know who they really were. "Well, what else do you want to know, Doc?"

"How did you two meet?" That was a very easy question and normally one that evoked good memories and pleasant feelings.

For a few moments, Harm sat there with a silly grin on his face. He and Mac had come up with a good cover story, but it really wasn't that pleasant. His current idea was nicer and, at least, had a hint of romance. "We met in a rose garden." To his left, he could sense Mac tense up and that was a good thing. He was sure she was remembering as well. "In the old company I worked for, my partners were always coming and going. . .Well, my _boss_ brings this lovely woman to me and the rest was over. . .Ah, about the rose garden, our office was having a mixer at one of the local parks. . .we were introduced amongst the roses."

"Angie, what was it about Jessie that you found appealing?" Nothing that he could think of would be appealing on 'Jessie' though the man had possibilities. But, with those nerdy glasses and that nineteen eighties yuppie outfit. .. ugh, what _did_ she see in him?

Mac grinned, if it was one thing on Harm that she found appealing it had to be, "His eyes. . .He has these beautiful eyes. . .captivating really."

Hughes resisted the urge to shrug, he didn't see it. "How long did you two. . .court before marrying?" Did he actually use the word 'court'? Jesus Christ, this couple was making him loony!

It was Harm's turn to deliver the bad news. "Well. . .I think. . .it was. . .well. . .well, two days really."

"We met and two days later. . .Down the aisle we went!" The enthusiastic timbre of Mac's voice was a stark contrast to the angry, hurt tone from before. Talk about doing one eighties. In Hughes' mind, it was probably a good idea to check the psych wards and make sure no crazy twosome had disappeared. One thing was for sure, they were perfect for each other. . .save for one or two details.

He was going to go on using that infamous 'wasn't that too soon?' question, but chose to end the session there. Ten minutes with the couple and already he was feeling drained. Next time, he'd have to take a pick-me-up before attending these sessions. "Alright, we're good for now. . How's Monday sound?"

Slowly Mac turned to Harm. Timing sucked with both of their jobs. Yes, she could leave as she pleased but that wasn't something a commanding officer did. "After five would be good." Normally things were dead around four, unless something major happened.

"That's fine with me." Being the type that liked to space appointments out greatly, five was the perfect time. It would last an hour and right after, he could hit happy hour with his flavor of the week. "We'll see each other on Monday then." Perturbed, he watched as the couple just stood and headed off as if nothing had happened. From his spot at the window, he saw 'Jessie' opening the door for 'Angie' and then bending over to give her a kiss through the open car window. "Christ, is this some sort of test of my abilities?" He would never know that at some time during the course of their first session, Harm had slipped a small disk under the sofa which would allow them to hear every conversation in the room.

1630 Local  
Rabb and Galindez Investigative Services  
Pacific Beach, California

The SUV screeched as it came to a full stop in front of Harm's designated parking space. "Damnit, Rabb. . .Control yourself." Uh huh, that was easier said than done. Hopping out of the vehicle, he barely made sure the door was closed before he keyed in his password and sauntered into the office. Mercifully, it was closed as they had the custom of closing on the weekends. Pertinent cases not withstanding, the place was usually a ghost town on Saturdays and Sundays.

Walking into his office, his first step, as usual, was to log in any information on his person. He did so with shaky fingers who couldn't quite hit the right letters on the keyboard. "Argh!" He groaned out, flicking his wrist a few times in hopes to get some semblance of control. "You're no caveman!" He said to himself and by the time he thought he'd regained control, the object of his manic actions appeared at the doorway. That was it, he couldn't hold it anymore. "Damnit, Mac. . .Do you know how much I want to rip those clothes off of you?" Harm's voice was husky, he was practically panting.

Despite how covered her body was, her soft curves could easily be seen moving under the fabric. Okay, maybe not easily, but knowing what Harm knew about Mac's anatomy – his brain was filling in all of the right kind of details.

Her response was breathless. "Probably as much as I wanted to rip those clothes off of you." In a flash, she crashed into his arms, kissing him hard and passionately, moaning as his tongue meshed and dueled with her own. The way back to his office had been a bitch. She managed to hit every single, damned stoplight on the way which made her all the more antsy. This rendezvous wasn't planned to be a fulfillment of sexual needs. No, they were to head back to change into _normal _clothing and log in all of the info so that they could clear the rest of the weekend. But, his outfit and all of the play acting had snapped something inside of her which she learned to calm while at work. This time, it hit her full force.

Mac sighed happily when his fingers began working on the buttons of her jacket. The damned outfit had a lot of layers. . .too many if you asked her. "I've never been so turned on." It was completely illogical, the man looked like a total nerd and yet, knowing his true self. . .maybe _that_ was the allure? "Well, I have been _this_ turned on, but. . ."

"Yea, I know." He struggled to take it slow while removing the layers of clothing. Next time, he figured, she would wear something conservative, but not so layered. "Damnit, Mac. . I want you so bad. . ." He had the jacket off and then contended to the blouse. Mac's own hands managed to slip underneath his shirt and onto the muscles of his back. She smoothed a hand upwards and then raked her nails gently over his skin. Damn, that drove him wild. "Maacc." He groaned out, then gave her a grin of triumph as he managed to FINALLY get the blouse off.

Mac watched with fascination, the intensity of his eyes. They'd done this several times before, gone completely crazy with lust to the point that only good monkey love was the cure. She didn't mind, on the contrary, it kept the spice in their sex life. Not that they needed it. Who would have thought that six months later they were still carrying on as if they'd just met? Sighing, her head now rested on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around him. "Harm?" She murmured softly, her voice still taking on that breathy tone.

"Uh?" He grunted out.

"That was. . .athletic." In fact, it was the best work out she'd had all week.

"Oh yea."

"Want to go again?"

He pushed off of her slightly, taking in that sexy as hell grin on those full, swollen lips of hers. Harm's rough hands held onto her hips, his thumbs caressing her skin and for the first time he realized that Mac was wearing thigh high nylons. "Damn. . .You had these on?"

Unsure what he was talking about, she moved back slightly and noticed his eyes on her lap. "You didn't notice?" She giggled when he shook his head. "Wow, you really must have been hard up, flyboy."

Raising his head he looked her in the eye. "_Me?_ Mac, when you walked in here. . . Marine on a mission, I. . . I was like filet mignon on a platter."

The comparison made her chuckle. Yup, sometimes he was like filet mignon and she couldn't wait to devour him. "Yea, I guess, sometimes I can't help myself."

Nearly an hour later, the pair lay on the floor of his office, laughing. A USN throw – which was usually draped over an arm chair in the corner – was covering their nakedness. "I'm never going to be able to look at this office the same way again." That wasn't the worst thing. How the hell was he going to concentrate in here when they'd 'christened' his space? Harm could already imagine long nights at work taking even more time than usual because his mind was in the gutter which was turning into a nice place to be. Especially if Mac was there.

"I would offer to christen my office at work, but we're a little picky. . .there's always someone there. . .not to mention those cameras."

He rose a brow in question. "Camera? In _your_ office?"

Mac shook her head. "Notinside _my_ office, but in the halls and stuff like that. . .It would look odd if you'd come in with me at odd hours and left the way we look now." She sighed in remorse, her office sometimes needed some sort of new life. Grinning, she leaned in and captured his lips with her own. One thing was for sure, she could kiss him forever. Locking her ankle around his own, she used a quick momentum to roll him over. Straddling his waist, Mac let the throw slide off of her shoulders as she bore her naked flesh to him.

Harm's hands left a trail of fire up her thighs as he inched closer to. . . "And this is Harm's office. . ." A familiar voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Peaking from behind Mac, he found Gunny and Kim Sundin, the nurse who had been very instrumental on getting him back on his feet after the accident in the office. As Gunny had promised, the two had begun dating when he was ready to. The two made a very cute couple – nauseatingly cute. "Mac. . .Harm." He leaned casually against the doorframe and grinned. "Quite the surprise."

Grinning embarrassedly, Harm pulled up the throw over Mac's shoulders and sat up. She closed her eyes tightly and to him it looked like she was wishing Gunny and Kim away all the while chuckling. "Hey guys. . .Mac and I. . ."

Mac pressed her body onto Harm's, hoping to hide her nakedness as she turned slightly to face their visitors. Gunny was enjoying himself and Kim seemed more embarrassed than the two of them. "Oh, Harm don't bother making excuses. . .Nothing wrong with hot, monkey love." Nope, nothing wrong with that at all.


	5. Trying To Play God

**This story is sooooo damned fun to write, I swear. . . I keep coming up with these ideas that will probably screw me over (seeing as I'll have to resolve them) and will have you guys gawking, screaming, doing a few 'I knew it!' and hating Vic even more. ;) Sorry for the Vic fans. . .Wait, no I am not. . .This Vic isn't even slightly amusing.**

**And yes, all of those e-mailing me with their wishes to kill the man. . .Keep them objects of mass destruction handy, your want will grow in spades.**

**Alright, so those that care about my personal life. . .I PASSED! All of the classes, for sure. I am 33 hours and 22 patients away from finishing though we still HAVE to stick around until March 24th. WTF! Yea, well, it's the way it goes. I've been enjoying my time in clinic though it is brutal sometimes. We often work 4-5 hours massaging a person per hour non-stop. As in, no pee break, no lunch break, nada. Yes, we are THAT full. We participated in a Chinese New Year festival, gave free 10 min chair massages and even gave away some free hour massages at the clinic, so we'll be busy. Whew And that's only twice a week. Weds and Saturdays.**

**Wish me luck, whip out the prayer beads, books, mats, palm trees, Buddahs, holy water, crosses, etc. On Thursday (Obviously not THIS Thursday) I'll go take my Comprehensive 3 hour, 5 subject (Traditional Chinese Medicine, Anatomy, Musculoskeletal, Pathology, Hydrotherapy) test. Which, once I pass, I can semi-officially (that's because our full graduation with the gowns and shit, is in August) graduate and then go for my State exam. Then, off to the races. Woo Hoo! I am super stoked and, unfortunately, over confident. **

**Ah, we'll see. I have a week to really buckle down the studies. Musculoskeletal and Traditional Chinese Medicine being the more tricky of the studies. Okay, so enough about me. . .Seeing as you guys HAVE been patient (I'm impressed), here's another part to wet your whistle and give you an idea as to what Vickie is planning. ;)**

**Also, a bit more in the Couple's Therapy Hughes story. :D**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**PART 5 – Trying To Play God  
**December 5, 2010  
2152 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

The USS Patrick Henry hadn't been at their current location for more than a day before things started a turn for the worst. The higher ranking Navy officials had received orders about a certain hotspot nestled right between South American and Africa. The carrier battle group was told to head towards the area and await further instruction all the while training their pilots for a potential bombing run. In the span of hours an unidentified plane was spotted on the radar, closing in to the vessel. Attempts to contact the plane fell through, either they couldn't hear the Henry or they were ignoring the carrier all together. When verbal warnings didn't work, Loftness sent up two Hornets in hopes of rattling the other fighter out of the zone.

Major Robin Stephens (callsign: Biloxi) and his wingman, Lieutenant j.g. Theodore Burke (callsign: Matchbox) were the first to be shot off of the ship while two other Hornets were prepared, just in case. "Matchbox, do you have a visual?" Biloxi asked the moment they hit cruising altitude.

"Negative, don't even see 'em on our radar." He hoped that meant the plane was bugging out, that the US Navy inspired the type of fear that meant no one else would mess with them. Truth be told, as much as he loved his job, today wasn't the day for a dogfight. In today's Navy, it never was the right day for it.

Biloxi glanced backward and around. "Alright, let's just cruise up here for a moment and go around the ship, I want to make sure we're completely clear."

On board, the moment a potential battled ensued, the course was to call the JAG up on the bridge. Thankfully, Loftness noted, Vukovic seemed to have regained his sea legs. It would be one hell of a long day if the man was puking all over his bridge while trying to formulate the proper rules of engagement. "Skipper, the rules haven't change. . .they can't fire unless fired upon." It was almost becoming SOP and the idea nauseated the commanding officers that had to adhere to such a suicidal law. It was the way of the modern, educated world – the need to ask questions first and then shoot. Problem was that several times members of your own team would perish before they had a chance to shoot back.

Loftness, for the moment, was too busy and concerned to play on the disdain he felt for the younger man. "We've never forgotten that, Commander. . .but if those SOBs come closer. . ."

"Shoot to kill." Vic said, verbally agreeing. He didn't want to die, especially in the middle of the damned ocean on a massive ship which was supposed to protect its crew. All of that superiority seemed miniscule when a hunk of flying steel carrying several missiles was following a trajectory towards your end of the world.

"I thought I would get some sort of argument from you."

Normally, he would have, but in this case, "I really do not want to die out here, Skipper. . .Call me a coward."

"You're not. . .There'd be something wrong with you if you wanted to die like this." Warnings on the onboard computers rang out, stifling any other conversation. "XO, find out what's going on."

Over the speakers the disembodied voices were calling out in distress. "Confirmation, two more bogies!" Matchbox's voice, which normally oozed of confidence, said with a shred of despair. "Damnit! They have a lock on my six!"

"Hornet Two-Zero-One, can you get a visual on the country of origin?" The Airboss asked over the line, hoping to get a clue as to which country the US was going to have a beef with now.

A scratchy, "Negative," was all that came through as the dreary sound of static filled the air.

Something about the situation reminded Vukovic of the opening scenes from Top Gun. The two pilots go out when bogies start coming at them from all angles. It was insane and extremely overwhelming.

"Hornet Two-Zero-One, do you copy?" The Airboss tried again, hoping that their worst fears were not confirmed. "Hornet Two-Zero-One, over." But the static remained present. He tried again, this time calling out to Biloxi. "Hornet Two-Niner-Niner, this is Wonderland, do you have a visual on Hornet Two-Zero-One? Over." Nothing. Nothing at all.

The men on the bridge shared looks of remorse, anger and shock. The tension had suddenly become so thick that it reverberated against the steel of the ship and intensified as each second passed by. And now, it was at its crux, churning and burning, nearly choking the lives of everyone on board. Tension had been high, since the crew had been chosen to head into enemy territory. But this time, things were much different – two of their own were gone for good.

A petty officer who was watching the radar closely, let out a sigh of relief. "Skipper, the bogies are heading out. . .It doesn't appear they are headed towards us."

Loftness sighed, then lowered his head in a quick prayer. In a shaky raspy voice he commanded the Airboss to send out a SAR crew. The end result wasn't looking very good and when search and rescue reported back, an already grim situation turned worse. "Skipper, this is Angel. . .We found some wreckage. . .it's not looking good at all."

"Both planes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Chutes?"

The line became silent for what appeared to be minutes as the well trained team combed the area. Nothing. . .Nothing at all. "No, sir. . .No chutes, there's nothing. They're gone."

1825 Local  
Dr. Jeffery Hughes' Office  
Mission Valley, California

Just the thought of having the Lawless' in the office put Hughes on edge. Damn, he'd never had a couple do _that_ to him before. Today though, instead of the war scene in the parking lot, he had a whole different take. They were making out inside of a big SUV and from his own personal adventures, he figured it would be quite a while before they'd actually made it _in_ the building.

He was right. . .it took them twenty minutes. "Not bad." He said out loud, grinning at the lewd and lascivious ideas he was starting to get about Angie. She was sexy and though conservative, if there was one thing that ran true was that those buttoned up, conservative types were wild women in bed.

Taking his phone he put in a quick call to Brad Stevens, a lawyer in the same complex. "Brad, it's Jeff. . .I think we have another couple to contend with. . .Yup, I'll send you all of the details when I am done." With a conspiring smirk, he hung up the phone and stood to welcome the couple as they walked in through the open door. To his surprise, the woman wasn't basking in the afterglow of sex. _Hmmm, _he thought, _they have to be doing pretty bad then. Good!_

Yes, Dr. Hughes was a man on a mission, but it wasn't a particularly good one. "Hello Angie, Jessie, how are we this afternoon?" One would figure the two would loosen up some, especially if they'd done _that_ in the SUV. But, no. 'Jessie' was wearing a Mr. Rodgers outfit complete with penny loafers (people still wore those!) and 'Angie' had on a lime green power suit that came down bellow her knees.

Mac turned away as Harm made to look at her. Another sign in Hughes' mind that Angie Lawless was definitely going to be easy to break. He'll start by phoning her the next day, asking about the sessions and how she likes them. Next, he'd move on to lunch and drinks. Lastly, clubbing, more drinks, some dancing and then he'd take her to his place in order to show the soon-to-be-ex Mrs. Lawless, what a real man is like. Sometime after, he'll break up with her, something about conflict of interest or. . .yes! That's right! He'll play the marriage card. . .It had worked twice before. In fact, after knowing he was married (he wasn't, but who knew?) most of his newly acquired mistresses would head for the hills and he and his partner would rake in the benefits. "Good. . .Can we get down to the session? I am eager to start." Mac chattered away, removing her hand 'discreetly' from Harm's as they took a seat on the sofa. This time, they did sit on separate sides.

Hughes made a note in his notebook, then glanced up. "Alright. . .So, today we're going to talk about pet peeves. . .Jessie, we'll start with you. Is there anything that Angie does which _really_ gets under your skin?"

Once again, though some specific things were discussed, winging it seemed to work better. It would have the desired effect and seem more natural than spitting out practiced answers. He just hoped Mac wouldn't start laughing hysterically. "Yes, her. . .Health nut craze."

To her credit, Mac didn't laugh out loud, but her eyes were wide as saucers. It wasn't shock though, it was pure amusement. Now she just had to figure out a doozy to zing him with. "I am _not_ a health nut, Jessie. . .I am just concerned about all of the crap you eat."

Harm raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, so I _like_ junk food. . .I can't live without a _good_ burger. . .You know what she made, Doc? This thing called Meatless Meatloaf. . .It was. . .disgusting."

"It was not! You're just pissed because I didn't let you have second helpings!" She yelled at him. "And then you call ME fat. You stupid piece of. . ."

"Woah! Stop." Hughes had immediate control of the situation and opted for something that he only used twice before, on his worst clients. Standing, he ventured to his desk, took a small, wooden rod and brought it back. "Okay, we're going set some _new_ rules." He handed the rod over to Harm. "The person holding this talks, the other, doesn't. . .You can't talk if you don't have the rod. . .If you talk out of turn, the session is over and I'll still bill you as if you've been here for the full hour." He wasn't joking and it was a stipulation which he outlined in the terms of service they had to fill out to become patients. "Now, Jessie. . .Have you done anything which you wish you'd have done differently?"

Now, Harm played stupid. "Differently, how?"

Hughes bit back the urge to groan. "Said something. . .Acted a certain way. . .Forgot something." Yes, that was a good one! Men usually forgot things – he did.

Pretending to be annoyed (and really she was) Mac sat at her end with her arms crossed and eyes constantly rolling away from the men folk. She snorted loudly, and when the two boys turned to her she mouthed out an inaudible 'sorry' followed by an unrepentant smirk.

"Ah, yes. . .I tend to stick my foot in my mouth. . .a lot. . .Like ummm. . .saying that she needs to work out more." Harm turned over to Mac who was looking off in the opposite direction. Hughes also glanced at Mac, his eyes taking in her athletic calves and the tiny bit of thigh he saw when her skirt road up slightly. "Angie is fit. . .I mean, she could be fitter, but."

She whipped her head towards him with such a force it was a miracle she didn't have whiplash. Reaching towards Harm, Mac yanked the rod away and turned to Hughes. "I _am_ fit. . .And this. . .this. . ." She sniffled then turned on the waterworks, once again using a hanky to hide the small bottle of artificial tears. "You don't love me, Jessie! All you want is a trophy wife and I will not be that! I won't."

Harm took that moment to snatch the rod away and slide closer to Mac. "Baby, I do love you. . . I'm enamored with you. . .Don't be like that." The more he tried to console her, the worse Mac got. "Angie. . .stop it. . .You're not five, stop crying."

Mac did the chest heaving thing, wiped at her tears and then took the rod away. "I will try to get through this, but let me tell you right now, Jess. . .It's not going to work. . .I don't love you the way I used to anymore."

Christ, if Hughes ever saw dollar signs it was with that one statement. Every time one half (especially the females) admitted that the love was gone, he could bank on them hitting a divorce lawyer within less than a month. "Angie, if the love was gone, you wouldn't be here." Yes, she would, it was a desperate attempt to remain normal when that was the last thing they were. He'd seen it before, many times, it was pathetic.

The rod slipped out of Mac's hand as she passed it over to Harm. He played the perfect part of the hurt and angered husband so well that the next words came out easily. "I cheated on you. . .twice. . ." He turned towards Hughes and shook his head in remorse. "Angie was being. . . well, HERSELF and I couldn't take it anymore. . .I needed a release. . .I'm sorry I did it."

The fact that she was trying to prevent herself from laughing out loud made it seem like Mac was crying uncontrollably. Cheat on her? Yea, right, Harm would be a dead man and he knew that. "How. . .Could. . .You?" She punctuated between sobs/laughs, then stood up and practically ran out of the office.

As Harm made to run after her, Hughes stopped him and headed off himself. "Angie. . .Angie." He caught up with her just as she was attacking (literally) the elevator. Tentatively, he reached a hand out and stilled her movements. "Hey, it's alright, I'll help you get. ." He stopped mid sentence as Mac thrust herself into his arms, her artificial tears wetting Hughes' nicely pressed blue dress shirt. "I'll. ..umm. . .help you get through. . .this." He placed his fingers under her chin and lifted up, smiling brightly as those beautiful eyes met his own. Had it been a different location, he would have kissed her. As it was, other parts of his body were feeling the effects of being so close to her. Damn, he had to have her and soon.

Releasing herself out of his grasp, she stepped back shyly, then turned towards his office. "Thank you Doctor Hughes."

"You can call me Jeff." He called after her, groaning when she disappeared back into his office. "Damnit, get a grip." But, the type of 'grip' he was interested in, couldn't be done at that present place and time.

1305 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

Captain Loftness, XO Newhart and Airboss Sheridan sat along with Vukovic in the wardroom as a video conference was going on with the wartime experts on the mainland. "We didn't want to give you too much information. . .This is all classified."

Loftness was furious. Not only was his crew being sent on a secret mission, it was quite probable that the US Military was letting them be targeted in hopes that they would figure out who was gunning for their squadrons. "Just how many planes have we lost to the Bandits?"

Admiral James Klein didn't seem the least bit shaken, war was war. Men like him thrived at times like these. "Including yours. . .six in the last four months alone. . .That's a rather high number."

"Rather high? Sir, that's astronomical!" It wasn't that they had bad pilots, God only knew the US was notorious for having the best, it was that things had become rather antiquated. Everyone favored battling it out from far away so much that the precise art of dog fighting had become a last resort. All pilots needed to be proficient in their skills when they trained but those skills diminished, especially if the enemy was an unknown with mysterious planes. "Did the other crews get a visual on the planes, Admiral? Maybe that would help."

"We were hoping you did." For months it had been a losing battle. Each and every carrier that was sent to the area had casualties. It was then that a Marine General suggested giving the Patrick Henry a run seeing as they had the best squadrons in all of the Navy and Marine Corps. From what little information the ship had sent back to him, at least it appeared that the boys on the Henry held their own for _longer_ than the rest. That was a feat on its own. "I want you to back off slightly, skipper. . .But stay near the area. . .This is all top secret, but we're planning on bringing the Tomcats back into action."

Now Loftness was truly surprised. He was one of the many Navy men who didn't approve of the government's decision to bring aboard the F-18 Hornet and scrap the F-14 Tomcat. There was nothing sexy about the Hornet, unlike the Tomcat with its swept back wing design. Aesthetics aside, the plane just handled better and it was able to take on any plane in the sky, including the Hornet. True, it was the pilot that made the plane, but to former flyers like Loftness, the plane was an extension of the pilot. "That would be a good start, sir."

"We had several veteran F-14 pilots re-training our Hornet pilots in Pensacola during the last few months. . . former RIOs were also called in and, as of now, we have two full squadrons of mixed Navy and Marine pilots. . .I'm going to hand select a few to join your crew."

Vic seemed to be hit by a sudden lightning bolt. Pieces were starting to fall into place and things were now making sense. _That's why Rabb was in Pensacola. He was training pilots to fly the F-14._ The only problem was that squadron leaders and trainers were rarely sent off to fly at times like these. People like Harm were needed to stay behind and teach their craft to a new crew. _Not this time_, Vic thought, a malevolent smile appearing on his lips. His plan was devilish at best, but it would end his problems with Mac indefinitely by getting rid of Rabb. "Admiral, have you chosen someone to lead the squadron?"

Admiral Klein stared at the camera in confusion, usually the person to ask that question would be the Captain and the officers around him at the bridge, not the onboard JAG. "Not yet, Commander. . .Did you have someone in mind?"

"Yes sir, Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. . .He was the one that played tag with a dirty nuke to keep it away from the Carrier back in 2002. . . To date he's one of the best pilots around." Vic knew he'd be a shoe in, holding various ship flying records. "Or so I hear." Hell, just that little game of tag with a nuke would be a good reason why Harm should be up there.

"Captain Rabb? Wasn't he involved with JAG Ops? I remember ready something about him in the Navy Times."

"Yes, sir. . .He was appointed to head up JAG in London, however, he stepped down after a few years and is currently on Reserve status. . .He's been training a squadron in San Diego and was also in Pensacola not too long ago."

The Admiral seemed to be slightly perturbed by this. As much as he wanted 'the best,' there were certain stipulations he adhered to. "If he's training the squadron, it would be a bit foolish to use his talents and then have everything go awry, don't you think?" The Admiral was mocking Vukovic, he enjoyed and always used those privileges. "I'll have to think about it. . . The SECNAV also has to approve."

Once again, Vic was trying to play God and unfortunately, this time it would work. See, to Vukovic, the best way to get to your enemy was to take away something they really cared about. With Mac, the one thing that could break her was losing Harm. It was a gamble, but one that he was willing to take. "I'm one hundred percent certain that SECNAV Hewitt will approve."

December 7th, 2010  
2015 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

"I _hate_ stairs!" Mac yelled, standing at the bottom of the steps which went up to the second story of their house. She was tired. Exhausted, in fact. Doing this dual job thing between JLSS and playing Harm's emotional wife was getting rather tiresome. Her weary composure wasn't quite in the mood to handle the steps, perhaps the only thing that got her up to the landing was the knowledge that Harm was upstairs and in her current state he'd give her a good massage.

Grinning, she trudged up the rest of the steps and headed into the office. Sure enough, there he was, staring at his laptop's screen while frantically clicking away at the mouse. "Hey, babe." He said with a smile, which was completely wiped off the moment he saw her disheveled look. "That bad a day, huh?" Turning to the side, he got a good grip on a large armchair and pulled it next to him. With a smirk, he patted the seat and beckoned her to join. "C'mere, I'll make it worth your while."

Mac snorted. "It better not be sex, mister. . .At the moment, I _can't_ handle it."

"Even if I do all the work?" He laughed, then stood and helped her remove the drab green jacket and gave her a shoulder to lean onto while she – literally – kicked off her heels.

"Damned things were definitely made by men." She allowed Harm to take her by the hand towards the armchair and then plopped into it with a delighted sigh. "I am _so_ tired, the stairs up here were a challenge that rivaled the Crucible." Harm glanced at her and shook his head in amusement. _Marines!_ They always had some analogy which referred back to boot camp. "What are you working on?" Mac asked, straightening up to look at the screen, the act itself sent a lovely little head rush and, instead of peaking, she decided to settle back into her chair.

_Hmmm_. Harm scrubbed a hand over his face and took a look at all he'd typed up. "I'm brain storming, actually. . .My client who's after Hughes said something that had me thinking." He trailed off, reached over to the side and pulled Mac's feet onto his lap. His fingers started running circles all over the right places, eliciting a few moans from her which had him breathing rather rapidly. He turned to Mac to find her leaning completely into the chair, eyes closed, with a look of pleasure on her face and a silly little smile. It was doing _things_ to him. "Erm, could you tone those noises those down, please?"

Propping one eye open, she looked at him and chuckled. "Sorry." She remembered a time, way back when, that they always shared things – secrets, stories, back rubs. Back then, Mac had to fight to keep her emotions at bay. She'd sworn to herself that Harmon Rabb Junior was _just a friend_ and not some conquest. That the love she felt for him was a friendly type. Of course, her heart kept saying just the opposite. During those times, all of the moans and groans were the quiet type. Now, she didn't even realize how uninhibited she was around him and him around her. She liked it – a lot. It was cute actually. Sighing, she closed her eyes again as his hands went up her calves. "Sailor, if you go up any higher I'll red light you."

"Just relax." He chuckled, all the while careful not to pass the boundary she set. They were good about respecting the other's boundaries, especially on days when either he or she were a little worse for wear.

"Mmm hmm." True to form, Harm stopped at her calves. _Such a boy scout_, she thought with a giggle. Peaking again with one eye, she found him engrossed with the computer screen. Miraculously, those fabulous hands of his didn't stop their magic. "Always knew you were good at multitasking. . .What were you saying about your client? You just sorta. . .trailed off."

"Hmmm? Oh! Yes. . .My client said something. . . about the luck of having a couple's therapist under the same shingle with a lawyer who handles divorces."

Mac raised a brow, now that was certainly something, especially if you believed in conspiracy theories. Which, if you were a lawyer, your head was already there. "I _did _see a divorce lawyer in the building. . .we pass their door when we go to Hughes' office." She thought for a moment, visualizing the path they take from the elevators and down the hall.

"How many offices do you think are in that building?"

"Judging from the size?" She shrugged, mentally calculating. "I say about four offices per floor, five floors to the building, minus the lobby."

"Eighteen, twenty?"

"Sixteen, maybe? Some of the offices are probably larger, like Hughes'. He has two offices, one of them is the reception area." She always found it amusing when high paid lawyers and therapists felt the need to have such a massive office when they only saw a few clients a day. "It might be nothing, but it's kinda interesting that Hughes is just down the hall from a divorce lawyer. . ."

"There's nothing illegal about a therapist and a lawyer suggesting each other's services to their clients, though."

Feeling her second wind, Mac sat up in the chair. "Thing is, it _is_ illegal to _give_ someone else your client's information. . .Patient doctor privilege. . .That alone is an avenue to pursue."

Harm sighed. It would have been an avenue if it was a law case, but it wasn't. "I'm not a lawyer, Mac. . .I'm a private investigator. . .I find out the details and pass them along. . .Although, I will admit that there's something there."

"I want to look into it." At his 'you got to be kidding me' look, she raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, I just want to help. . .and it's interesting. . .Besides, chances are, if the lawyer and Hughes are in cahoots, he's going to tell me anyway."

Well, no one could tell Mac that she wasn't self assured. "Awfully sure of yourself, MacKenzie." Reaching for her, he tugged her up and then positioned her body so that she could sit on his lap. "What makes you think Hughes will tell you _anything_?"

"Mmmm. . .well." She licked her lower lip slowly, then bit down letting her lips slide between her teeth. Almost immediately, Harm's eyes started darkening with a fiery passion. Mac _hated_ toying with him, but she was trying to make a point. "Sex sells." In the past, the notion of using her as sexual bait seemed preposterous. To Mac, there wasn't anything special about her looks, she was just. . .average looking. Harm though, made her feel womanly, sexy, beautiful. Sometimes it made her feel like she could conquer the world.

Sighing dramatically, Harm arched his head up. "Mac, would you _at least_ kiss me?"

Mac placed a finger on her chin, pretending to think about his proposal. "Yea. . .well. . .why not?" She placed her hands on either side of his face and leaned in. Her lips just barely touched his. "I. Love. You." The words were punctuated between three short kisses. "So much." Never had she felt a rush at telling a man she loved him. With Harm, it was like flying. She sealed his lips with her own taking and giving her feelings with each touch and each caress. When his lips trailed down to her neck, all thoughts of not making love were becoming quite distant. "Take me to bed?"

Sneakily, between kisses, Harm had managed to slip his hands under the right parts of her body, making it easy to stand with Mac in his arms. "I knew you'd see it my way."


	6. Pain Killer

**Nope, Pain Killer doesn't mean that Vic's going down. Not yet. . .sorry to disappoint. Woah! I am high at the moment on essential oils! I've taken aromatherapy a bit TOO serious and am making my own soaps, lotions, soaps, lotions, soaps. . .erm. . .lotions and. . .umm. . .creams! Yes! Weee! **

**Erm, the test. . .Gosh, that test that had me tormented. . .Well. . . :sighs: Ummm :Chews on lower lip and glances around desperately.: **

**I PASSED! Which means, I am elligable to graduate once I finish clinic which, the way we're going it'll be NEXT week but I still have to stick around until March 24, then apply for the State Board exam, pass that, get liscened, start working. Make anywhere from $45 an hour to about $110 depending on the location and modality, clients. Woo Hoo! **

**Anyway, thank you for your patience:D I am moving this around. .. Umm. .. just ask Witchy V who was reprimanding me for sending her chapters instead of studying. :blush: I needed a study break! Right! Those are legal! Anyway, I am up to chapter. . .:takes a look: 13 I'm starting that one now, so we'll have somewhere to go. . .I am hoping to post at least 2 chappies a week, but don't quote me on that. I'm the "reliable" :laughs: erm, student in school so the school admin has me doing EVERYTHING. I'm heading up some events here in Miami and getting credit for it, which is nice. ;) Anyway… ok. . .here we go.**

**EnjoY!**

**Jackie**

**PART 6 – Pain Killer**

December 11, 2010  
1952 Local  
Robert's Residence  
San Diego, California

Missing so much of his godchildren's lives was not Harm's intent. When he took the job in London, all he could think of was getting away from DC and Mac. Inadvertedly, that also meant getting away from their friends who would, surely, have contact with her. It was cowardly and extremely selfish, but it was the only way Harm knew to survive without having been reminded that he'd left his heart, broken, in Washington.

When he'd met the Roberts clan again an overwhelming feeling of shame settled at the pit of his stomach. AJ had grown in leaps and bounds – something that he'd missed almost completely. As a godfather, he should have been there to help raise him, to give Harriet and Bud time alone by taking care of the kids like he and Mac had done in the past. Five years were missed – years that he couldn't get back, so he was working on the present and the future. In the last few months, Harm, Mac and the Roberts' had made an unspoken agreement to spend more time together.

Dinner was take out Chinese and while the kids were assembled in the living room watching Disney flicks Mac was helping Harriet with the dishes while Bud and Harm were outside on the porch having beers. From her vantage point, Mac could see Harm leaning against the wooden railing, engrossed in some tale of something or other. She grinned, which didn't go unnoticed by Harriet. "Glad to see things are working out."

Mac turned to the right where Harriet was leaning against the cabinets, drying plates. "It's working very well, actually."

"I always knew you and Harm would be good together. . .Too bad it took almost fifteen years for you to see that."

_Damn_. She'd never really put a real time frame to it. "You say that like it's a bad thing." She said with amusement in her voice.

"It isn't." Harriet clarified, placing a supporting hand on Mac's shoulder. "Some couples need a little time."

_True._ "But, more than a decade? That's more than just a little time." Sighing, she reached for the next plate, lathered it up with soap and used a sponge to remove the stains. "In a way, I guess it was good that we separated for so long. . .Made me see things from a different perspective. . .It made me realize that, I can't just turn off my feelings for him."

"Kinda scary isn't it?"

"Very." Mac shrugged and handed over another plate. "Thing is. . .I _like_ this. . .I like depending on him and having him around." Giggling, she glanced out of the window and watched Harm who was still deep in conversation. "It hasn't become mundane either."

Harriet stared at her with a look of confusion that only she could pull off. "In English?"

"Every guy. . ._Every_ guy I've ever been with. . .give it a month or two and it gets sort of boring. . .With Harm, I haven't felt that. . .I mean, I actually want to get home and be with him, even if it's just to sit on the sofa and watch the news." Finishing with the last plate, she turned off the water and turned around, leaning against the counter. "He made me realize that. . .that I don't need to be alone. . . He makes me feel whole, Harriet."

Outside, Harm and Bud were laughing over a few dirty jokes some of the boys at his office had been telling all week. "They get this stuff by e-mail and drive Gunny and I nuts all week long by e-mailing it to us."

Bud chuckled, sometimes he disliked military professionalism and all that was required of them. At times he wished to be a in a regular office where people didn't have such a high standard. "I think the Colonel would _kill_ us if we used the internal E-mail for anything other than cases." He took a final pull from his beer and then placed the empty bottle on the ground next to the wooden bench. "You know, she looks very happy lately. . .And I know it's not just that Vukovic is out of the office." He chuckled. Having Vic away was nice, very nice. No gimmicks were being pulled and for the first time since his arrival, the office was running like a well oiled machine.

"Mmm, yea, I've noticed." Wearing an undeniably smug smirk, he turned towards Bud, then finished off his beer. "It's nice between us. . .I can honestly say that I've _never_ felt like this with anyone but Mac. It's strange, you know?"

"Strange? How?" Was strange a good thing? Knowing Harm and Mac the way he did, Bud couldn't be too sure. True, the petty arguments of old were gone now, but that didn't mean everything was running smooth. Bud knew, from experience, that the two of them were like a ticking time bomb at times. Maybe they had gotten passed that point? He figured so, but he wasn't certain.

Harm shrugged. Sometimes it was difficult to put into words what he felt. It was sad too, a lawyer who didn't know how to use his words. He wondered if that happened for other attorneys or if it was only a malady that effected him. "Damn, how do I say this without sounding like an idiot?" He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply. Yes, he'd told Mac what he felt and what he needed, but to tell it to someone else. . . "This is new for me, Bud. . .I didn't know what it was to be in love until she came into my life. . .and it took me so long to figure all of that out. . .It's just strange to finally be on the winning side, you know? Sometimes I think I don't deserve what I got. . . She put me through a lot of grief those last years in Washington. But, that's nothing compared to all of the misunderstandings that led to the lowest points in our relationship." Frowning, he crossed the porch and settled next to his friend. "In Australia, for that Duncan case? Remember. . ."

"You and Commander Brumby broke my jaw. . .yup, I remember that." He rubbed his jaw softly and shook his head. That trip had been a _huge_ nightmare, for all parties involved and that included Mac, though she would lead them all to believe that she was happy. _Yea right._

Harm chuckled. "Did I ever say I was sorry?"

"You didn't mean to hit me, Harm."

"Right. . .Anyway." He shook his head and settled against the wall. "The night that Mac and I went to dinner together. . .We were on the ferry, crossing to Luna Park. . .Somewhere between the discussion about my client we wound up talking about the relationships between a woman and a man. . ." He cast his head down in shame. Why didn't he make a move then? "Mac. . .she implied a relationship between the two of us and I. . . just blew her off. . .Didn't even really give her a reason why nor. . .nor did I tell her that I wanted it too."

Bud's jaw dropped. It was difficult to know something had happened between your two best friends but not know how to fix it. He'd known that things between Brumby and Harm were getting sticky due to Mac. The fight certainly didn't have a thing to do with Duncan, it was about her. What he couldn't figure out was why the woman would go to a man like Brumby? Alright, so he was a good guy, fun enough, but for Mac. . .He didn't really think they made a good match. Being a supportive friend, he wished them the best and prayed it would work for their sake, but it was difficult to sit and watch Harm with a woman who was trying to manipulate him into marriage. "I was. . .This sounds bad, but I was hoping you didn't end up marrying Renee."

"You too?" Harm snorted. Just the thought of marrying that woman gave him hives.

"I wanted you and Mac to be happy, but. . . I knew you weren't happy with Renee and she wasn't really happy with Mic. . .It just wasn't my place to say anything. You two were senior officers and we are taught not to discuss those things with senior officers." Damn military protocol anyway. As a friend, he should have come up to the two of them, but what would he say? 'Find a hotel room and get it over with already?'

Harm gave Bud a friendly pat on the shoulder. "It's not your fault, Bud. . .I don't think either Mac or I would have listened. . .Too pigheaded. . .We're alike that way."

"I won't deny that." He chuckled, laughing harder when Harm gave him a mock look of annoyance. "C'mon, let's go inside, the girls should be done. We can get the kids to bed early and play some cards."

"Sure, but don't let Mac or Harriet know you called them 'girls.'" He chuckled, patting Bud on the back. "It's WOMEN."

The Roberts' kids, for the most part, were quite well behaved. AJ had passed through his running away stage and had an affinity for watching the others. Since he was the oldest, Bud and Harriet allowed him to stay up a little later playing video games, quietly in his room. The adults were attempting to play a game of Texas Hold 'Em for pennies. Sweet and innocent Harriet was playing everyone under the table. Harm had the second largest amount of pennies, Mac the third with Bud, who had managed to win the last three rounds, closing in on them.

"_Honey_, I know you're bluffing." Cheekily she told Harm. It had taken her a while, but Mac thought she could now read his tells. She'd noticed that he'd often rub his chin and end up bluffing his way out of the situation. Harriet she couldn't read, the woman was like a blank canvas. And Bud had the habit of clinking his chips together when he had a good hand.

Harriet scrutinized the cards once more and took a glance at the two cards lying face up on the center of the table. She already had a pair, but the chances of making more than that were kind of slim and if the showdown between Harm and Mac was real, she was going to be losing a lot of pennies. "Bud, you in or out?"

Sighing, he tossed the cards on the table, face down. "Nope, I'm out. . .Guess that kills my streak."

Harm grinned. "At least _Harriet_ didn't win the last three."

"Yea, really." Mac continued. "Just how _did_ you get so good at cards?"

Conspiringly grinning, Harriet tossed in a few pennies into the center of the table. The game would continue for her. "That online site Party Poker. . .I was home all day and though they are four kids, they aren't always up at the same time. . .Sometimes, I would get bored. . ." Snapping her fingers at Harm, she chuckled when he looked up at her with a perturbed expression. "She _knows_ you're bluffing, Harm. . .So just fold already!"

"Uh huh, you know _nothing_ Marine." Thinking his next move through again, he decided to go 'all in' and pushed his stacks of pennies to the center of the table. "All. In." He punctuated and sat back, waiting to see what Mac would do. "Your turn, Colonel. . .Just give up now, save your pennies for a rainy day."

Mac handled that whole 'look that could kill' with extreme precision. She cast an evil eye towards her opponents, settling on Harm with a positively evil smirk. "No, Captain. . .I will take my chances." She pushed in her stack, then sat back, flushing the two cards in her hands. "You're going down, Squid."

"Hah! Whatever, Jarhead!"

Harriet shook her head and tossed her cards in the stack with Bud's. "Never mind, too rich for my blood."

"Alright, Rabb, just you and me. . .Whattaya got?" The trademark MacKenzie eyebrow rose, challenging him to beat her. He wouldn't, she knew that a four pair was hard to beat. "If you thought I was going to fold under pressure, think again." As Harm made to turn his cards over, a rhythmic shrill cut through the air. It was Mac's cell phone. "Argh. . .Hang on." The roughly look of her face when she glanced at the caller ID only meant one thing to Harm – Hughes was calling. "Excuse me." Quickly, she stood, heading into the kitchen for some privacy. "Hello?"

"Hello, may I please speak to Angie Lawless." It was Hughes. His voice sounded too sweet, almost as if he were trying to sweeten her up. _Men._

Mac cleared her throat and tried to settle her own voice, taking the edge off. "Yes, this is Angie. . .Doctor Hughes?"

Hughes chuckled. "Ah, I was trying to sneak one by you, but you're too good."

"I guess so." She tried to sound pleasant and interested all the while rolling her eyes. _What a jerk._ "How can I help you? Is there something wrong?" Of course there was, the last time that she and Harm were at the office, they'd gotten into another staged argument and it had slipped, several times, that he would be away for business. Angie, of course, had a problem with this and voiced it out with great and loud displeasure. This Angie was quite the wuss.

"Nothing wrong. I just wanted you to have dinner with me." Hughes had become the master of getting women – married women – to go out with him. He found that sounding apprehensive didn't work, that's why most of the women had trouble to begin with – men just didn't have a clue what to do anymore and, as a result, would fall into the 'less is more' mentality. However, every time he was direct, they would come to him, hook line and sinker.

_Yup, definite jerk and what an ego!_ Remaining silent for a moment, Mac played the concerned, yet, intrigued thinking-about-being-an-ex-wife. "Well, I was. . .not. . .Ah. . .S-sure." She stammered out, giving the thumbs up to Harm who was leaning under the entrance of the kitchen. '_We're in'._ She mouthed to him. "Umm, where do I meet you?"

Hughes grinned, the eager ones were usually the ones that had the most problems – the ones easiest to get into bed. "I'll pick you up."

Nope, that wasn't good. The last thing she wanted was for him to know where she and Harm lived. Addresses and information giving to the shrink had all been fake. "N-no. .. I have. . .really nosy neighbors. . .I'll meet you somewhere?"

This was getting better and better for the good doctor. Concern about nosy neighbors was a sure sign that the little woman was thinking of taking things a bit past doctor/patient relationship. "How about Zenith? It's a club, but they have a lovely restaurant, quiet, we can talk."

_The last thing this guy wants is to talk, puhlease! _"Zenith?" She glanced at Harm and shrugged. Mac didn't have a clue where that was. Clubs and bars had been two things she'd avoided like the plague. There was no reason to tease her temptation to drink. The last time she did the clubbing (before Harm) was with Michael and it had always been a hassle to make the man understand that she didn't drink, period. To her relief, Harm nodded, then made an 'okay' sign with his fingers. "Yea, I know where that is. . .In an hour?"

"Hour sounds good. . .See you then Ange." With that, he hung up, not even allowing the woman to come to her senses. That worked too, he found out – never give them an out.

Mac shook her head in disgust, then slipped the phone into her jean pocket. "This guy is some piece of work.. . .You could _hear_ the ego over the phone."

"What? His ego is bigger than mine?" He chuckled.

"Amazing isn't it?" Sighing, she glanced around the kitchen, then back to the entrance where Bud and Harriet stood with concerned looks. "Guys, I'm sorry, Harm and I have to go. . .Something about a case I am helping him with."

Harriet cringed. She'd heard about the last case they'd been on together. The term 'frightening' had a new meaning. "Ugh, there go my chances of sleeping well tonight. . .Be careful you guys." She enveloped Mac in a tight hug, then turned to Harm. "Call me when you get home, I don't care what time it is, I just want to make sure you guys are safe."

"Yes, Mom." Harm said, getting a good whack on the shoulder for his efforts. "So I guess that means I won?" He pointed to the three pair on the table.

Whipping around, Mac leveled a glare at her lover. "Yes, Harm. . .You won." Alright, so she'd stroke his ego just a little bit. He didn't have to know that she had a full house.

2245 Local  
The Zenith Bar and Restaurant  
San Diego, California

It had been agreed, that the best course of action was for Mac to hail a cab about a block or two close to the place and get off, glancing around as if she were worried that someone would spot her. She would carry that act inside and always seem semi-available, but never fully giving in. For sure, Harm wasn't going to make the same mistake he did with Jarvis and Manda, this time, he was ending it quickly. The pin camera on Mac's dress allowed him to see what was going on. A small device behind her ear allowed them to communicate. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" He grumbled into the microphone. Using Mac as bait was killing him, especially the outfits that she chose for the occasions.

Since this 'date' was supposed to be an 'outside of the box' experience for Angie, Mac decided that an uninhibited look would be preferable. The burgundy dress she wore had no sleeves with a slit up to mid thigh. The matching shawl was used to help keep her modesty which was quickly disappearing along with the deep 'v' at the front of her dress. "Nope. . .What you said was, and I quote, 'lucky bastard.' I am curious why though." She teased him. Harm _had_ seen the dress before. In fact, she wore it to a formal party just a few weeks ago. He'd worn a tuxedo, something that she'd never seen him in before, and was turned back into a Harmon Rabb groupie. The man looked, in a word – hot. His broad shoulders made the monkey suit look divine. They made quite the pair and had been the talk of the night.

Harm snorted. "Oh nothing, really. . .I was just hoping that dress would stay between the two of us."

Mac chuckled, causing a few of the patrons waiting for entrance to stare. Sobering, she whispered. "I just got a vision of you wearing the dress. . .I gotta say, you need to shave those hairy legs if you want to pull it off."

"My legs are not _that_ hairy! You make me sound like sasquatch." Her laughter though, was infectious and he could only imagine the manic look the patrons were giving her. "Mac, c'mon, try to be serious."

"I will." Ignoring the looks that other men were giving her, she stepped into Zenith and quickly found Hughes. He was waiting for her at the reception area, dressed in a black, pinstriped suit. It made him look like a modern day gangster. "Doctor Hughes, how are you?" She received a kiss on each cheek and was surprised when he leaned in and brushed a barely there kiss on her lips. Smiling politely was difficult to do when all she wanted was to give him a knuckle sandwich.

"Did he kiss you?" She could hear Harm's exasperated voice call over the communications system.

"Call me Jeff." He smiled, taking her hand and raising it up to his lips. "Angie."

_Oh, brother!_ _Smooth operator._ And though Mac wasn't thrilled with his wiles, she could see how a woman, scorned and betrayed, could easily succumb. "Jeff, lead the way." She bit back a grin when Harm groaned audibly.

He weaved them through the club portion and headed towards the large wooden doors that house the restaurant. Stepping inside, the environment changed completely, it was, what one could categorize, a romantic setting. "I called ahead of time so we have the table at the back. Nice, quiet. No one will bother us."

Mac was tempted to slap him upside the head. The last thing she wanted was to be _alone_ with him. "You know, the last thing I want is for you to be _alone_ with him." Harm said over the intercom, sighing deeply as the waiter set them up away from the other guests. "Watch, the creep will want to order the most expensive champagne on the menu. . ."

Hughes took the wine menu which was offered to him, leafed through it and then presented it back. "Bring me a bottle of your most expensive champagne. Thank you."

Biting her inner cheek managed to keep the laughter at bay and yet, it didn't. The sound that came out of Mac was like a cross between a sneeze and a cough. "Excuse me, allergies." She took the napkin from the table and wiped the tears that had come out. She was going to kill Harm later, that's for sure. "So, why did you want to have dinner with me?"

"You know why."

Yes, she did, but he wasn't supposed to know that. "I don't. . .Enlighten me."

The look in his eyes changed from playful to serious. But, it wasn't serious enough and anyone really searching would have seen the façade. "I like you, Angie. . .I like you a lot. . .Truth is, I can't stand the way Jessie treats you. . It's wrong. . . You're his wife, not a play thing. . .A woman as beautiful as you should not be left alone. . .She needs to be taken care of. . .Her needs must come first." It was quite possible that in his endeavor to seem the perfect man, Jeffery Hughes spent quite a while reading romance novels, Mac thought.

Harm, once again, let his displeasure be known. "What? Did he read that out of a romance novel? What a jerk!"

What a jerk indeed. "Doctor Hughes. . .Ah, Jeff. . . I. . .I like you too and not just as a friend." Ah, there was the clincher, the one thing that she hoped would snag him. "When you called. .. I'd be lying if I said it didn't. . ._do things_ to me." If her JAG gig ever went sour, definitely she'd try her hand at acting. This was actually fun. "I'm just. . .so. . .God! I'm so afraid." She took the napkin and brought it up to her face, pretending to be sobbing quietly.

Trying to soothe 'Angie,' Hughes slid his chair around the table and came to her side. "Don't cry, please." He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close to his body as his hands ran over her arms. "I can help you, I can. . ." He leaned in close, brushed another kiss on her lips and then placed another on her forehead. "Ange, baby. . .Let me take your pain away."

Inwardly, Mac was cringing. Did women really buy into this bs? She knew they did and though she understood why, she couldn't fathom how someone could just give in, especially when this is the man they came to in hopes of returning to marital bliss. "How."

"Spend the night with me." Well, that was certainly blunt. She was hoping that he'd, at least, talk to her over dinner. Hell, even a little dancing would be acceptable. Jeffery Hughes was definitely a character if he could get a woman into bed that quickly, without alcohol. "I'll take all of your pain away."

Harm was panicking. Though they caught him in the act, red handed, he needed more information to make the rest stick. "Mac, not yet. . .ask him some questions. . .I need all of this on tape."

To her horror, the type of pain killer wasn't sex, but something far worse. Making sure the coast was clear, he reached into his suit pocket and produced a small vial of cocaine, shaped so that the product could be inhalator immediately without having to use a mirror or a table. "This will help. . .It will set you free."

"Mac! Is he offering you coke?" Clenching his jaw, he waited for an answer of some type, which came in the form of a moan. One of the things his client had stated was that his wife seemed to be intoxicated and not by alcohol. Now he knew why.

Mac pulled away from Hughes and then reached for the water goblet on the table, taking a long pull. "What about Jessie? If he finds out he'll. . .oh God! He'll kill me." She whispered to him, placing her hands on either side of his face.

Hughes placed his hands over hers, sliding them down so that he could clasp them. "Baby, I have a friend who's a divorce lawyer. . .He'll help. . .We can be together."

"That's it, Mac! Get out of there, I'll be waiting up front." Happily, Harm left the equipment taping while he headed out of the black SUV and crossed the street. Hughes wouldn't know what hit him.

Relieved, she took Hughes' hands and tugged him up with her. "Let's go now. . .I need you now." A cocky grin spread across his lips. She figured he was already adding another notch to his belt, damn how wrong he was. Mac led him through the restaurant and then into the club. As she was weaving her way through the crowd, Harm stepped in front of them. She grinned up at him. "Jessie!"

"What the hell are you doing, Angie!" Harm yelled at the top of his lungs, turning from her to Hughes who suddenly popped in front of Mac to play her 'protector' _Ouch, buddy. She's going to be pissed about that._ Harm thought, cringing as he envisioned Mac flattening this man into pulp. "Hughes!"

"Look, man. . .It's not what it looks like." Keeping a slight distance away from Harm was a good idea, Hughes thought. He was also acting the brave male, keeping the fragile, loose canon female behind him.

But, Harm kept his charade, more for fun and the fact that he was waiting for two particular persons to arrive. Scrubbing his eyes, he pretended to be crying now. "How could you, Angie? I loved you!" He reached out for her and to Hughes' shock, she reached back, allowing 'Jessie' to pull her into his arms.

Her hands gently caressed the contours of his face. It was something that she loved doing. Harm had admitted once that it relaxed him to feel her hands on his body. Well, not all of his body, some parts got more excited than relaxed. "You're never there. . .I need a man who is there for me."

"I'm sorry. . .Forgive me." He leaned down and captured her lips with his own, causing an uproar of catcalls from the other patrons.

Hughes was suddenly yanked into the twilight zone. Never had he had a couple as unpredictable as the Lawless'. Nothing about them had been fun or enjoyable, it had been a mess from beginning to end and this was one gig he didn't mind losing. "You know what? Forget it! Find yourselves another therapist. . .I quit." As he made to leave the establishment, Harm's hand came around his forearm, roughly tugging him back. "Look Lawless, let me go. I can kick your ass faster than you can scream for help, you dig?"

"I'll tell you what, Jeffy. . .How about you go to jail instead?" Spotting the two undercover police officers, he waved them over to Hughes. "Officers. . .If you check this man, I'm sure you'll find some snow on him."

Roughly, the two officers poked and prodded through every pocket on the man, finally pulling out the small glass vial. "That's not mine."

"But you're in possession of it." Mac said, standing beside Harm. They each wore matching grins of accomplishment. Another baddie had been nailed.

As the cuffs were being tightened, Hughes finally realized that he'd just been scammed. His partner had always tried to keep their little negotiations silent and urged Hughes to not be so frivolous with the women he picked. Now, it came back to bite him on the ass. "Who are you?"

Now it was Harm's turn to have an over inflated ego and for good reason, he earned it, so did Mac. "I was paid to look after you and your associate's little scam to destroy marriages for personal gain. . .I'm personally going to make sure that you see some time for that. .Have a good evening." With that, he patted Hughes on the shoulder, wrapped an arm around Mac and headed out of Zenith. "Good job, Colonel."

"You too, Captain." She leaned against his broad shoulder, sighing contentedly.

2230 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

Captain Loftness stood at Vulture's row alone, save for one junior officer which stood to his left. "Two more planes." The officer said, a hint of remorse in his voice that was barely recognizable. It was almost as if the officer _wanted_ things to happen. But, that couldn't be, he was military for Christ's sake! "Skipper, I recommend you do as Admiral Klein suggests."

It wasn't Admiral Klein that suggested it though, the order came straight from the top – SECNAV Caroline Hewitt who was acting like a kid with a magnifying glass on a pile of ants. After the meeting just four days ago with Admiral Klein, the decision to have Captain Harmon Rabb Junior join the squadron was squashed. All parties involved felt that the man's talents were far too valuable for the game they were about to play. Cruelly put, he wasn't expendable and in a war with an unidentified military force, they needed the expendable types of pilots who didn't care that this was a suicide mission. "Commander, you and I will never see eye to eye on things. . .This is one of those things." As Captain, he had the right to refuse certain on goings with his ship. Hewitt gave him a buzz, followed by a pissed off Admiral Klein, threatening to chuck his eagles if Loftness didn't comply.

Vic sighed deeply. The ball was in Loftness' court for now, but the options weren't exactly favorable – let Captain Rabb on board or lose your command. A man with a family, like Loftness, wasn't likely to take option B. "Look, he's a kick ass pilot, he'll survive. . . If that's what you're worried about."

Loftness glared at the younger man, wishing his eyes had lasers. "Commander, we lost two more pilots today. . .I would hope you have some remorse about that and yet, I don't see it."

"I feel awful about this, Skipper. . .All I want is to see a resolution and as on board JAG, I am giving you an option."

"Yes, an option that has _nothing_ to do with your responsibilities as a JAG. . .You're playing God, Vukovic, and I might not be able to stop you, but some one will, eventually." Angrily, he turned from Vic. He would have thrown the hatch closed if he could.

Leaning against the railing, Vic pulled out a cigar. He watched as the crew prepared a Hornet for flight. Those damned things always reminded him of Rabb now. Lighting the cigar, he settled in for a moment, content that his sea sickness was gone and his case load had lessened after the Cisco fiasco. So he didn't beat Mac, big deal. He had better ways to tame the wild MacKenzie. Grinning, he took a puff from the cigar and sighed as he glanced on to the Heavens. "This will be our crowning achievement."


	7. The Dangers Of Feeling Too Much

**PART 7 – The Dangers Of Feeling Too Much**

December 16, 2010  
2045 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Mac never could understand why it was that fellow servicemen/women felt the need to act so foolish and irresponsible during the holidays. It was the most wonderful time of the year and yet, massive cases were being slammed onto her desk. So much so that she was going to have to make a nasty choice to probably pull Vic back from the Henry. With a sigh she took off her heels, placed them next to the door and headed up the steps. Turning into the office, she dropped her briefcase next to Harm's and then walked into their room. Surprise would be the first word that came to her mind when she found him on the window seat, glancing outside. "Hey, I thought you weren't supposed to leave the base?"

It was all classified, and she never bothered trying to get Harm to tell her. As much as she could tell, he was training pilots for a top secret mission and was to work odd hours to make sure they were prepared. It was fine, they'd managed to have lunch together one day, the rest had been a blur. She'd been swamped with endless caseloads – something that rather amused her. Mac never could fathom why, in God's name, people needed to be so bad during the holidays. They had been so swamped in the last couple of weeks that the thought of bringing Vukovic back was actually kind of pleasant. "Ugh." She shuttered at the thought.

When he didn't answer her immediately, Mac became worried. It wasn't like Harm to just stay there and not even greet her. Even if he had a lousy day, they would at least exchange pleasantries. Instead, he was still seated there, seemingly carrying the weight of the world as he cast his eyes downwards. "Harm?" Carefully she padded to him, then placed a hand on his shoulder. All of his muscles stiffened and it was as if he were shielding himself from an enemy. This wasn't good. – Whatever had happened to him was major. Why hadn't he answered her? "Harm? What's wrong?"

"Sit down, Mac." He patted the space in front of him, glad that she obliged without resistance or questions. Slowly, he turned his face up, the look of worry in her eyes was his undoing. If he hadn't kept his emotions in check so well, Harm was sure he'd cry. As it was, those brilliant blue eyes of his were getting watery.

Thing is, Mac could tell and it wasn't reassuring at all. "Why am I not liking this?"

"I have to go away for a. . .while." There, he got the beginning out, one that he'd practiced for the last three hours since the base CO had sent him home to rest.

"Reserves?" Alright, he was going away, that wasn't a reason to panic. It would be sad, yes, but panic. . .no way!

"Something like that. . .sort of . . .I." Now for the next part, the classified part that he wasn't supposed to fill her in on and yet, he couldn't help himself. It wasn't that bad, not like he was giving her the launch codes – but, for their relationship – it was potentially detrimental. "For the last six months I've been training pilots to use the F-14 again."

That didn't quite make sense, especially since all service members knew the last of the F-14s would have been scrapped by now. "I thought the Navy was scrapping all of them and just using a few for movies and museums?"

"It was supposed to be." For the life of him, Harm could never understand the brass' need to cut corners so badly. It wasn't that he loved the F-14 as much as it was the best plane out there for moments like these. Now, whether they liked it or not, the Cats were ruling the skies again. "Something bad happened. . .Last week two Hornets went up and ended doing a little dog fighting with MIGs of an unknown origin."

"Unknown origin?" She raised a brow in confusion. Throughout all of her years in the military, such a thing had never been an issue. Countries loved to display their flags everywhere, even on their planes. "I don't understand."

"We have absolutely _no_ idea _who_ the MIGs belong to. . .It's like they fly from out of no where and before we know it, they're on your six." Ghosts. That's what he'd heard other pilots calling them. The name couldn't be more fitting. "The Hornets were no match, Mac. . .We lost a Marine and Navy pilot. . .The SAR crew on the Nimitz think the pilots are alive but are being held somewhere. . .They saw chutes but couldn't find the men."

"And no one has tried to make negotiations?" That was rather odd, considering the 'bad guys' loved to show off how good they were, especially when hostages were concerned.

"Thus far, no. Not even one negotiation." Harm cocked his head towards the sky and a passing commercial plane. Maybe that would have been a better solution? He could still be a pilot. . .No, it wouldn't – becoming a commercial pilot meant not being at home as much. Shaking his head, he turned to Mac again. There was so much more to say. "It's sad that these tragedies had to happen before the Navy realized that the Hornet's dog-fighting capabilities are non-existent. . .They are going to reinstate the F-14. .. In fact, for several years now, Grumman has been sort of rebuilding the plane. . Since I was one of the last to fly it, I have the most recent knowledge. . ."

She cut him off. "Understandable, you are one of the best. . .So, they need you to train the pilots? Is that why you're going away?"

"Yea." Harm's voice was low, shaky. "Only it's not just a training mission. . .I'll be on the carrier. . .Chances are slim, but I might have to fly."

The words felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. Out of everything that could have come to mind, the first thing was the news that he'd gone down in the Atlantic on the eve of her wedding to Mic. "What?"

"I honestly thought I was too old for them to consider me, but it's just the opposite. I've had the most experience. . .Though I don't have as much flight time as others, the little time I was up, I've proved myself in their eyes." Harm rambled off, his eyes cast out to the street and the rain that was now falling. He laughed without emotion, the weather fit his mood. Did he want to go up? Yes, it was his duty, what he trained for. The thing is, that now he had someone waiting for him, someone to come home to. A reason to survive – that alone scared him half to death. Would his flying change because of these new factors? Worst of all, what would happen to Mac if. . . "I'm leaving with my squadron tomorrow morning. . .We're not sure how long this will take." Truth of the matter was that they didn't know anything. Some suspected it was a group of rogue agents who'd managed to collect enough money to build themselves a small air force. Others blamed it on Castro or whomever was left in the world with Communist ties. Al Queda was thrown in for good measure, seeing as how pathetically easily it was to buy a jet fighter these days. It really didn't matter who or what, what mattered was stopping them before there were more casualties.

Harm's thoughts wandered back to the woman beside him, only she wasn't there anymore. At some point, she'd stood up from the window seat and was standing at the doorway, her back to him. _Damnit. _He didn't want Mac upset with him although she had every right to be. Slowly, he stood and came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Sarah, talk to me."

Now she _really_ knew how he felt the night before she left for Paraguay with Clay. He didn't have the right to ask her not to go – now, as their roles reversed, Mac realized she didn't have that right either. "I, I have nothing to say. . .There's nothing I can say."

"That's a first." He blurted out, unsure why.

Mac whipped around to face him, her eyes lined with unshed tears. "Don't make wisecracks, Harm. . .This isn't a joke."

"I _know._ . .Mac, I'm not happy about this, believe me."

Pushing past him she stepped into the room and took a seat at the edge of the bed. "I find it hard to believe that you aren't, at least, slightly happy about this. . .This is what you trained for, what you were born to do." There was something else though which she realized only when the Christmas lights outside flicked on. "God. . .It's almost Christmas." She glanced up at him wondering if he noticed the correlation, hoping God wouldn't be that cruel to them.

"That's not going to be my fate, Mac. . . They probably won't even let me touch a plane." Squatting in front of her, he took her hands in his, willing her to look at him. "I don't want to go, but I have to for the same reason why you went with Clay to Paraguay – it's our duty. . . With our stations in life we are accountable for innocent lives. . .I can't sit back and wait for some. . .bastard to destroy a carrier just because I was thinking about my own needs."

Mac couldn't fault him for feeling that way, it was part of what she loved about him. "I'm not going to ask you to stay. . .I wouldn't either if the roles were reversed. . .But, you need to give _me_ some time to get around this. . .I wasn't prepared for something like this."

Time – as usual, it was the one thing they didn't have. "I leave tomorrow." Sadly, he stood and took his place back at the window seat. "Mac, I don't want to leave with you mad at me. . ."

"I'm _not _mad at you." She said, turning to face him. "I'm not. . .It's just overwhelming and sudden. . .I foolishly believed we were past all of this. . .No more surprises."

"I'm coming back."

As much as she wanted to believe, "You don't know that. . .And don't promise me that you will. . .You can't do that, it's unfair to me. . ."

"I know." He agreed with a nod of his head. Damnit, there should be some sort of rule book for these situations, some manual with the right words to say. "Then I promise to do everything I can to get back home to you."

That wasn't any better, but it at least gave her some sort of hope. It was ironic really how every time they had arrived at the place they wanted to be, something always pushed them back over the line. At least, when he went down in the Atlantic, she'd had the knowledge that the SAR crew was doing everything to get him back. This time the mission sounded like some half baked scheme Webb cooked up. Though Harm hadn't said so, Mac could tell that if he went missing, rescue would be tricky if not altogether impossible. She would pray that it never came down to that. "I need time to process all of this. . .I need to be alone."

"We don't have time, Mac."

Part of her wanted to yell at him, to ask him what it was that he wanted from her. If it was understanding, he got it, in spades – no one seemed to understand these things better than she who had, several times, risked her life for her beliefs. "I'm sorry." She stood and headed towards the door, stopping just under the frame. "Did you have dinner? If not I can make you something."

"Late lunch."

Mac nodded. "If you get hungry there's left over pasta in the fridge." Returning to the office, she took her briefcase, headed downstairs and slipped out the front door.

Despite the quietness of the house, the resonating sound of the door locking broke his heart. Harm only hoped he'd see her again before he left in the morning.

0520 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

Vukovic awoke to the sounds of someone banging on the hatch to his stateroom. "Commander?" The muffled sound called from the outside, threatening to destroy the first good sleep he'd had in weeks. Lamenting the loss of his warm rank, he threw his legs over and went to the hatch. On the other side, the carrier's PA Officer, Ensign Rand, stood with that ever present cheery smile and about a dozen file folders. "Morning, Commander. . .Here are the files you were looking for. . .Somehow they wound up in my office." She laughed. . .loudly and shoved the files at him. "Also, sir. . .Secretary Of The Navy Hewitt needs you to get back to her ASAP. . .She didn't say why."

That whole aloof attribute of Rand's got under his skin more times than he could count. How could people be _that _cheery all of the time? She reminded him of Roberts' wife on speed. "Alright, Ensign. . .Let me get dressed and I'll take the call in the JAG office." Privacy wasn't that hot a commodity when trying to discuss matters on a carrier. In the JAG office he'd always have a chance to send the legal man away and get those precious moments of alone time. "Dismissed."

After closing the hatch, he shuffled towards his bunk and climbed in, sliding his body under the sheets. Taking his pillow, Vic folded it in two and used it to prop his head up while glancing at the files. In each was the service and fit records for the pilots the ship would be acquiring. It was his job to shift through the legal jargon and make sure nothing would impend them from doing their jobs. Taking a quick glance, he was surprised _not_ to find Harm's information amongst the men and women. Maybe that's what Hewitt wanted to talk to him about? Just after the meeting with the Admiral and the Captain, Vic had decided to head to Hewitt. It seemed as though she was quite receptive to Harm's participation in the matter, maybe she had changed her mind? "Damnit, it's too early for shit like this."

After getting dressed, grabbing a cup of coffee and heading down to the JAG Office, Vic was allowed to make the ship to shore call. The line, though secure, didn't mean that he could discuss things at random. There were codes which he and Hewitt adhered to which enabled him to talk about all sorts of things. "Secretary Of The Navy Hewitt, please. . .This is Lieutenant Commander Vukovic." He rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration, the woman really needed to get a life. True, it wasn't _that_ late in DC, but that was hardly the point, there were more opportune times to make these calls. "Mrs. Secretary, how are you doing?"

_("I've got good news for you." Her voice was practically beaming over the line. "Captain Rabb is onboard.")_

That was nice, but what concerned Vic the most was the method in which Rabb would be aboard. "In what capacity? His information was not on the files I received from your office." Some of the 'oldies' (former Tomcat pilots) were not sent in to battle but merely stayed on the ship to give points and opinions.

_(Hewitt's laughter echoed on the line, so much for subtleties, "He's going to fly on the team. . .Apparently playing tag with a nuke gives you those sort of privileges.")_

Vic snorted. He fully doubted that Harm's exploits was the reason anyone considered him. It had been his doing, with a little help from the top. "Of course, you had nothing to do with that, correct?"

_(Despite their relationship, Hewitt didn't appreciate the man's disrespect. "Commander, need I remind you that I am the Secretary Of The Navy and as such, your boss. . .Play nice. . .")_

"Alright, here's nice. . .MacKenzie will probably interfere. . .And even if she doesn't, she'll try to figure out why he was sent up."

_(The man just wouldn't let up and his 'dog with a bone' relentlessness was driving her up the wall. "You'll never let that go, will you?")_

Vic sighed, sometimes life was just a bit _too _complicated. "No, Ma'am. . .I've already discussed MacKenzie in great lengths with you."

_(He was right on that one. Great lengths and then some, Hewitt was getting bored of the MacKenzie discussions. Although amusing, there came a point when the best term was – nauseating. "Understood, Commander. . .But, I'm not a magician. Now, is there anything else you need to discuss with me?")_

"No, Mrs. Secretary. . .Thank you for the update. . .I shall contact you if anything of importance occurs." He cringed at the way he sounded. Damnit, he was almost like a puppet sometimes. Then again, considering the situation, puppet was a good thing – it enabled both him and Hewitt to win.

2310 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Both Harm and Mac were able to count with one hand the times one of them had gone to bed without the other. Changing to suit the relationship wasn't easy when two strong willed (aka: pigheaded) individuals always believed they were right and never wrong. Yet they'd managed, with minimal arguments and one piece of advice, a couple's therapy of sorts which explained that you should never go to bed angry at your partner. Time and age was also a factor – they weren't kids anymore and acting like one when serious issues abounded wasn't the smartest thing. Neither was running away.

Mac wasn't too surprised to find Harm in bed, sleeping on the COD or any other pieces of military transportation sucked. If things were as serious as she believed them to be, it would be a while before he got a good night's sleep. Still, there was a secret hurt in her heart. It wasn't that she meant to run away this time. In fact, she didn't go _that _far off, only to a park by their home. Mac wasn't lying when she'd told him she wasn't prepared, something about seeing him in civilian clothing ninety percent of the time had her completely oblivious. Foolishly, she believed that the tribulations of the past were left behind and wouldn't follow them.

To a pilot, talking about death and consequences was like a curse. Those things were always in the back of their minds, but it wasn't the most prominent thing. Harm had explained once that it was that cockiness and ego that got them through the job unscathed. But when she'd heard from him that the Navy was sending him on a new exploit, her mind suddenly played a slow motion movie that began in May of 2001 when news of his plane crashing to the Atlantic was passed to the small group by Admiral Chegwidden.

She thought about this every time he flew and never once since forgot to wish him luck. It was a mantra that kept him safe, she believed. This time, the thoughts of Christmas being so close sent mixed messages. What were the odds of him going down as his father had? Better yet, what were the odds of Harm going down on Christmas eve?

Spending these hours alone allowed her to think about those possibilities without sounding overdramatic – without worrying him. Now, as she stood watching the man she loved, Mac felt a deep pang of regret. Their time together was now cut short because she couldn't get a handle on her emotions. "Are you going to stand there all night or are you coming to bed?" Harm's voice softly asked, startling her out of her reverie. He was sitting up against the headboard watching Mac with mild curiosity.

"Oh, Harm." She crawled onto the bed and into his open arms. "I'm sorry. . .I didn't mean to let you down."

Though she wasn't crying at the moment, Harm knew she had been at some point, the running mascara was a clear indication. "I know. . .Mac, I know I can't promise you I'll come back in one piece. . .But, I'll try, I swear it."

"I believe you." She raised her head from the spot on his shoulder and offered a watery smile. Having cried for a good two and a half hours had left her open, cleansed. Emotions ran off of her easier now that she didn't have to hide behind her façade. At least, not in front of him. She licked her lips in anticipation as his head came down to hers. His kiss was a combination of pain and passion. It was deep and needy and Mac closed her eyes and felt herself clinging to him before her emotions tumbled her out of control. Harm held her close to him, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back. When they broke apart, her eyes remained closed. "Sometimes. . ." She began, finally opening her eyes to look at him. Even in the slight darkness she could see the emotion in his eyes which mirrored her own. "Sometimes. . .Do you think it's dangerous that we feel this much?"

Harm was astonished that she'd verbalized something that had been concerning him since their relationship had been consummated. In the past, with other women, time would make a relationship more distasteful than anything else. He'd often found himself drowning and not in a good sense. With Mac, however, his feelings intensified by the day. It was confusing, frightening and exhilarating. "Yes. . .But, I can't stop feeling the way I do for you, Sarah. . .and I don't want to stop." They kissed again, this time more needy than anything else. Breaking it off, he stared at her with a blank expression, "I need to say 'goodbye' properly."

Mac knew what he was trying to suggest. The idea made a smirk appear on her face, but it never changed the feeling in her eyes. "Make love to me."

That night and once again in the early morning, two souls turned into one. For once it wasn't about pleasure or fun, it was a goodbye of sorts and a reason to return. When she awoke in the morning, Mac found a letter on the pillow beside her along with a single, long stemmed, rose. She had hoped he would have awoken her before he left, but understood why he didn't.

Taking the letter, she gently unfolded it and the words came to life.

_Sarah,_

_I was going to wake you, but I don't have the heart to hurt you again I'm coming back I know that I sound a bit too sure of myself, but if anything, I'm a survivor who always returns home. Especially now that I have something to come home to. Nevertheless, if something happens, you can find an updated version of my will inside the second drawer of my desk at the office. I've left some things to you, Mattie and, of course, the Roberts'. About Mattie, please take care of her for me. I know she's an adult now, with a good head on her shoulders, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need guidance. I know you'll be the best person to give that to her. _

_Whatever does happen, please go on with your life. When it comes to you, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy by any means necessary. Too bad it took me so long to understand that you were happiest with me. Alright, yes, very egomaniacal thing to say, but, hey, I'm a pilot, baby. It's what we do!_

_I love you and I'm not afraid to admit that anymore. No matter what, I know we're meant to be together and we will see each other again either in Heaven or on Earth. Until then, wish me luck, I might really need it this time._

_Love,_

_Harm._

_PS: Don't eat all of the Chocolate Ice Cream while I'm gone!_

Wiping the tears, she laughed at the last line. Leave it to a Squid to crack jokes in spite of such serious correspondence. "I'll be damned if he thinks he's going to sneak away without saying goodbye." Last night wasn't enough and she didn't get a chance to wish him luck. That would have to be rectified. Dressing as quickly as possible, she was out the door and headed towards the base. She wasn't too sure how she would react, but would keep the tears and negative emotions at bay for his sake.

Showing her ID, she was granted clearance to the airfield and the large hangar where several men and women, Harm included, stood waiting to board a C-130. "Captain Rabb!" She yelled, stepping closer to the group. When he spun around, his eyes widened and a sly smile appeared on his face. "You left without saying goodbye, Captain."

Harm stepped towards her, standing just a foot away. "I didn't want to wake the Colonel. . .She was very sad last night." Studying her, he found that though her façade was neatly in place, there was something in her eyes that only he could read. This was killing her.

"You weren't going to sneak away without me telling you 'good luck' were you?"

His grin was infectious. "At least it's not 'goodbye.'" He leaned into her kiss, savoring the moment and ignoring the cat calls from his colleagues and students. Breaking apart, he came to attention and saluted. "Take care, Marine."

"Semper Fi, Navy." Mac saluted back, smirking as he did a perfect about face and joined his group. Now came the hard part. How do you cope when the one you love is in a war zone? She was going to find out.


	8. Heart Attack

This part is going to go by fast. I didn't' want to linger on it forever. ;)

Jackie

**PART 8 – Heart Attack**

December 16, 2005  
1030 Local  
Joint Legal Services Southwest  
San Diego, California

Harriet always had an innate sense of caring for those around her – something that became more pronounced as she joined the ranks of motherhood. This sense was on full alert when Colonel Sarah MacKenzie stumbled into work that morning. It wasn't the fact that Mac had barely said two words to anyone as she entered – the Colonel was known to have varying degrees of mood swings – nor was it the fifth cup of coffee (in less than 3 hours) that Jen had been seen preparing. No, it was Mac's eyes that gave her away.

Walking into the break room, Harriet found Jen leaning against the cabinet stirring creamer into the Colonel's coffee cup. "Is that for the Colonel, Jen?"

Jennifer Coates nearly jumped out of her skin. "I'm sorry, ma'am. . .You startled me." Her mind was on other things this morning. Mac wasn't acting right and all attempts to use her stellar psychological jargon weren't working this time. Working so closely with Mac, Jen had started to realize one detail – it was easier to extract information from the males. Chegwidden and Cresswell were pussy cats at times. Mac, well she was a bit harder to decipher sometimes. "I was just making _another_ cup for the Colonel."

Harriet nodded, noticing the worry and that underlying question that she knew Jen couldn't bring herself to ask. In the last few years, Petty Officer Jennifer Coates had grown, matured and learned how to really deal with the Navy. At Mac's suggestion, she was even considering OCS. "I understand, Jennifer. . .I'll take that to her. . ."

"Thank you, ma'am." She sighed in relief. "If it's anything serious ma'am. . .I know you shouldn't tell me, but I just want to know that the Colonel _and_ the Captain are alright." With that, she came to attention and waited for Harriet to dismiss her before heading to the office.

After grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, Harriet put her brave front on and decided to enter 'The Dungeon.' (A name lovingly given by officers and enlisted when a certain Colonel was on the warpath.) She almost collided with Mac as she stepped out of her office with a flourish. "Lieutenant, where is Coates?" Glancing around, she spotted Jen in front of the filing cabinet, attempting to organize Mac's. . .umm. . .filing system. (If you could call it that! Nope, not even the years could change the fact that Mac's desk and files were a mess.) "Coates? My coffee?"

Daring to act amused, Harriet waved the fresh mug of java in front of Mac. "I have it ma'am. . .I needed to discuss something with you."

Mac glanced at the cup of coffee, noticing that Harriet had one of her own. That didn't bode well. Whenever Harriet came in with a cup of coffee for herself it only meant one thing – time for a chat – a long chat. Those chats were sometimes personal and other times business. As office 'manager' Harriet was given the task to look over the enlisted personnel and make sure that the bullpen ran like a well oiled machine while Bud babysat the officers and worked as Chief of Staff. She took the coffee mug from Harriet's outstretched hand. "Come on in and close the hatch behind you." Sliding into her own chair, she pointed across to the two in front of her desk. "Take a seat, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, ma'am." To her credit, Harriet knew how to play the game when it came to Mac. Shooting from the hip was necessary. "Permission to speak freely?" She saw Mac practically deflate and feared that the conversation would not go pass this little hump. To her relief, the Colonel nodded in agreement. "Thank you. . .Is something wrong with you?"

The coffee mug that Mac was holding came down on the desk with a resonating 'thud.' Some of the liquid swished around and spilled out onto the desk. "Shit." Taking a few tissues from the box on her desk, Mac quickly cleaned up the spill before it leaked elsewhere. "What makes you think that something is wrong?"

Ah, yes, the infamous answering a question with a question. It was something similar to what Bud would do when he was having a bad day. Specifically, when she and Bud are having a bad day. It was suddenly clear now. "It's Harm isn't it?. . .Did you two have a fight?" Arguments happened between the best of people and while they weren't always detrimental, it could sometimes leave you feeling lousy. Mac's answer though, wasn't expected.

"I wish." Pinching the bridge of her nose had helped stop the tears from falling earlier that day. But, she couldn't continue that way. Damnit, why was this so hard? Stubbornly, a droplet ran down her cheek and onto the smooth wooden surface of the desk.

Harriet sat horrified. She'd seen Mac in tears twice before, it wasn't something that the Marine did easily, especially not in this setting. "Mac?"

"Harm's gone. . .The Navy needs him to fly some top secret mission. . .That's all I can say about it but. . .He's gone. Left this morning and doesn't know when he'll be back." _If he'll be back._ Her mind taunted her, making the coffee in her stomach churn. _Stop it! He's coming back_. But how could she be sure?

Many didn't understand the military or how difficult it was to walk away from someone you loved. They didn't understand what it was like to have someone you love walk away from you. It was the price they paid for serving their country. A price that they paid willingly for in the back of their minds they always knew that separation was a possibility and that military jobs were not set in stone. The JAG crew had been lucky for a long time and only suffered their first blow when Harm had decided to change his designator, leaving the office in a shaken upheaval. It was this constant ebb and flow which brought the Roberts' to San Diego, a move that Harriet loathed but came to love when she was reunited with her impromptu family. But, this wasn't just a move, a change of billets. From the matter in which Mac spoke, this was serious. "I'm sorry, Mac." There was really nothing else she could say, it wasn't like when Bud left for sea duty, there was nothing safer than a military ship. With pilots, just shooting off of the deck was detrimental.

When Harriet had arrived at the office that morning, Mac resisted the urge to run to her for advice. Memories flooded her of the first time Harm had gone – it was much different then, she was still trying to sort feelings and emotions. This time, they were sorted and cataloged. This time, it hurt, _for real_. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Sighing, she closed her mouth and turned her chair to the side. _Get a hold of yourself, MacKenzie! You're the damned commanding officer._ From the side, she could feel Harriet's concerned gaze on her. _You're the commanding officer, but that doesn't mean you're not human. _"How. . .How did you cope with Bud being gone when he left for sea duty?" She had a vague idea how things went on between the two of them, but that didn't mean much. Harriet, though much more fragile than herself, also had a knack for putting up walls when they suited her. In her case, those walls were in place to protect her from Lauren Singer's nosiness.

"E-mail. Online Chats. Ship to shores whenever time afforded it." She thanked God every day for those modern forms of communication. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, it was as if Bud were right there with her.

"No." Mac turned her chair back so that she could look at Harriet. The information that she wanted wasn't about communication, it was about dealing. "No. . .How did you do _this?_ It hasn't even been a day and I'm. . .I've never felt this before. . ."

Harriet swallowed down the lump at her throat. It was difficult seeing a normally strong woman show her true emotions. From experience, people with walls as high as Harm and Mac's felt more than others – emotions ran deeper. "I had you guys around and little AJ. I did a lot of praying and though I am not overly religious, I would go to the chapel once a week, light a candle for Bud and our other service personnel out there." She sighed deeply, then sat forward, cupping the mug of coffee with both hands. "The first. . .month or so, I cried. . .I cried a lot, actually." She smirked nervously. "It got better. . ." Again, this was different, the sadness in Mac's eyes told her so. "This is serious isn't it?"

"Yes. . . It doesn't help that it's the holidays."

"That's never fun, no."

Mac shook her head. "That's not what I meant, though. . .Harm's father. . .he went missing on Christmas eve. . .That's just a couple of weeks away. . .I don't want to think this way, Harriet, but I can't help it. . .What if that's his fate?. . .We've never been able to discuss it with our friends because of the logistics and classified information involved, but the search for Harm's father unearthed things that I preferred not to know." How could someone hold a man captive for so long, away from his family?

"I'm not going to lie to you, this will be difficult. . .Even with Bud, I knew he was safe on the ship, but I had this nagging feeling, you know?"

For sure Mac knew that feeling. Damn that 'special gift' of hers. "Yes, I know. . .I guess. . .I'll just have to cope."

"We're here for you, Mac. . .You know that. . .Even if it's only a shoulder to cry on." Grinning, she stood up. "I promise I won't tell that the Colonel actually cries."

Mac chuckled. "You know what can happen if you ruin my rep, Lieutenant."

"Very aware of that, yes ma'am, and I don't want to spend the rest of my days in Antarctica."

Standing as well, Mac came around the desk and gave Harriet a hug. "Thank you Harriet. . .It's nice to know I have people on my side."

"Always. . ." She stood at attention, waiting to be dismissed, when Mac's sudden, jubilous 'oh!' stopped her. "Ma'am?"

From under the paperwork, Mac produced a square, black box. Grinning, she opened it, offering Harriet a peak at its contents. Inside sat Lieutenant Commander epaulets baring one star. "I want to have a little party tomorrow for you. Bud's out for the day on a case and I am sure he'll want to pin these on you himself. . .Congratulations, _Commander_." In truth, Harriet had earned them much sooner, but taking time off to care for the kids had pushed the promotion back some. "I'll keep these here until tomorrow." She hugged Harriet once again, the younger woman's grin was infectious. "Dismissed, Commander."

After Harriet stepped out, Mac went back to her desk, put the box away and settled into her chair. She felt only marginally better and hoped that these new emotions would ease some. The thoughts that Harriet's 'nagging feeling' comment brought up were hard to squash. Truth be told, she had that nagging feeling and if it was one thing that Mac could count on, it was that those feelings were usually right on. For Harm's sake, she hoped those feelings were wrong.

December 18, 2010  
0855 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

Stepping off of the COD, Harm found the decks of the USS Patrick Henry to be surreally quiet. The hustle and bustle was oddly tamed now and a nearly full moon cast an eerie glow over the, otherwise, dark decks. _Damn_, he thought, recalling too well that the only times things were _this_ quiet around a carrier was wartime. Towards the bow he spotted two Tomcats, cockpits open, parked in front of the area where the blast shields would pop out when needed. He recalled Desert Storm and having to wait all night, sleeping inside the F-14's confined space, waiting to be launched. As much as he loved the Tomcat, spending the night strapped inside of her cockpit was a _bit_ much.

"Hey, Hammer." A familiar timbre called as he walked inside and began to remove the necessary gear.

Harm glanced up at his friend and smiled. "Keeter. . .Did some pretty lady toss you out of your bunk this morning?" He joked, pulling in his oldest friend for a 'manly' hug. "How are you?"

Keeter shrugged. "As well as can be expected, under the circumstances." His demeanor shocked Harm who would normally see a confident pilot, no matter the consequences.

"I haven't seen you this shaken up since. . .well, ever really."

"Our mindset is one that can deal with these things, but let me tell ya something. . .I'm scared. . .I have this vibe that's scaring me shitless." That brutal honesty was one he knew not to share with pilots, but this was his friend and if he could somehow save Harm, he would. "C'mon, you're bunking with me during this cruise. . .Meeting is on at the ready room in three hours, that gives you some time to sleep."

Three hours later, Harm found himself wandering into an ensuing brawl in the ready room. Two men that he didn't know were being pulled apart by two others. Keeter stood in the middle, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I will not tolerate this type of behavior from you officers! God damnit, people, we're on the same side, let's show that. . .Now, sit the hell down and I don't want to hear a peep out of you for the next hour." He glared at the man, a Lieutenant, which started the fight. "Richards, you and Laurens are grounded, if you can't work together then I don't want you on any of my squadrons. . .Head down to your bunks, pack it up and I expect to find you both on the next COD out. . .Am I understood?"

A muffled "Yes, sir." was said in half unison as both men headed out with their tails between their legs. From his vantage point at the back of the room, Harm shot Keeter an amused expression which was waved off.

"The government sent you here because you are the last and best crews proficient in the F-14 Tomcat's capabilities. . . Having said that, this does not mean that you are just to pick a plane and head off. . .You will be tested." Heading towards the greenie board, he pointed at the name of all pilots, under them the name of the chosen RIOs. "Pilots and RIOs have been selected by myself and the Airboss. . .Since we had word of your arrival we've been trying to select the best pairs based on past performance and training performance." Grinning, he turned to the group. "Today we'll get to test our theories. . .You'll do a set of four quals. . .Two day time and two night time. . .All I ask is that you don't screw this up, you pay attention to our LSO's and. . .for God's sake, don't dump them in the drink." Of anything, he prayed the last wouldn't happen. The F-14s were retrofitted with technology that had yet to be used on any aircraft, millions of dollars had been spent in making twelve of those jets fully useable again. Four were used to train, the others were on the ship at the moment. "Alright, find your crew and let's begin."

The idea for these impromptu quals came from Captain Loftness himself who didn't wish to allow any screw ups on their newer missions. All crews needed to be checked on if they were to work together. Too many lives had been lost and he was seeking for a way to lessen that count. The quals consisted of a crew (pilot and rio) to shoot off of the carrier, perform several aerial maneuvers, circle around the carrier, come in for a landing only to kiss the decks and take off again.

Harm's RIO, Lieutenant Commander Andrew Bailey, could be described as a cockier than hell, loudmouth. Not surprisingly, his call sign was 'Muzzle.' One hour later, as they sat inside an F-14, readied to be catapulted, the man was not shutting up. "So, yea. . .I said to her 'Baby, if you ain't into pilots, you ain't into anything good.'" He finished the last of his stories, chuckling jovially at a joke that Harm found neither entertaining nor amusing.

"Be quiet while I radio in, alright?" His glare through the rearview mirror received a smug smile and a thumbs up. God help him. "This is Alpha One-Niner-Five, ready for take off."

"_Affirmative Alpha One-Niner-Five. . .Ready to launch."_

_Here we go_. Seconds later, the catapult moved into action, shooting the Tomcat off the deck. "Wooh!" Harm yelped in exuberance as he pulled the stick backwards, bringing the fighter up on a steady climb. "This is great." Being back on a Tomcat was one of the most wonderful experiences ever. While the Hornets were fun to fly, this was his baby, the plane he learned on. There was just a mystique about Tomcat pilots that seemed to have more of a flare than any other. He was in his element.

Muzzle, though, had only uttered a sentence. "Alright, Hammer, let's see what you can do."

Harm pushed the plane through the clouds, moving it through several twists and turns as the crew below instructed him. After a final turn, he dipped the plane downward, searching for the carrier. "Muzzle, everything alright back there?" The carrier came into view through the clouds on the starboard side. Taking a peak through the mirror, he found Muzzle wasn't doing too well. "Muzzle? You alright?"

"_Alpha One-Niner-Five, everything alright?" _The tower spoke into Harm's radio, but he was too busy with his RIO to worry about anything else.

"Muzzle, WAKE UP!" Damnit! The man seemed to have passed out, a sign that didn't bode well. He'd hoped that in the rush to get the crews up that the flight surgeon hadn't missed something in his evals. "Negative Wonderland, Muzzle is not looking too hot. . ."

"_Understood Alpha One-Niner-Five, come on home." _

"Roger that." Two minutes later, Harm was back onboard, going through the usual run through when it came to shutting down the plane. He popped open the cockpit for the emergency crew that was running towards them.

Later, outside of sick bay, he sat with Captain Loftness and Keeter. An incident report was already filled out based on what he saw – or rather – what he didn't. Now, they had to wait and see. "I have countless theories running around my head at the moment." Harm confessed, thinking back to about half a dozen JAG cases involving Pilot and RIOs. "You know, I actually had a case once where the RIO let the pilot asphyxiate on bad O2 just because he wanted the other man's wife."

Keeter's eyebrow rose slightly. "Bad O2 is a possibility, God knows we've been working double shifts half of the time, _something _could have screwed up."

"CAG, I'd rather not go there until we know for sure." Loftness was uneasy with situations like these, especially considering that their next missions would be exhausting feats. He didn't have the time to endure any type of trial for personnel who did their job incorrectly. "A trial is the last thing we need right now."

Maybe it was the only thing they needed? If a suggestion of impropriety towards Harm was valid, he wouldn't be allowed to fly. Keeter pushed the issue a bit more, if anything to save his friend from a fate that it seemed no pilot could run from. "Skipper, I hear what you're saying, but the JAGs won't see it that way. . .And if Muzzle thinks Rabb was responsible, there will be a trial."

Than again, maybe not.

The onboard Doctor, Lieutenant Commander Jefferson Winchester, stepped out of sickbay. His lips were a thin line, his eyes displayed his worry. "It's not good, gentlemen. . .Apparently Lieutenant Commander Bailey suffered a heart attack."

Harm stood, exasperated. "A heart attack? Jesus."

"It was a minor one. . .He will be alright, but he can't be on a jet at the moment. . .Captain, you'll need a new RIO." The doctor glanced towards Keeter and Loftness. "I'll have my official report for you in an hour."

While Loftness looked relieved, Keeter didn't. After the skipper walked away, he turned to face Harm. "I need to talk to you, _privately._" The pair headed down to their stateroom and that's when Keeter threw Harm up against a bulkhead. "Listen to me. . .Dump the plane."

Holding his hands up in surrender, Harm was blindsided and rendered powerless. "What the. . .?"

"I'm your friend, Harm. . .I don't want your death on my conscience, alright? Plus, Mac will kill me if something happens to you. . .For the love of God, go out, say the fucking thing malfunctioned and _crash it._"

Taking a slight step to the side, Harm managed to step away from Keeter and straighten. "I'm _not_ going to run away from this, Jack. . .You know me too damned well. . . I don't run away."

"Do you want to _die?_" Keeter emphasized the word, sighing deeply. "You're my friend. . .my oldest friend. . .Man, I don't want you to go down like your father did. . .Or mine."

Harm sighed, as much as he wished he were back home, with Mac, this was his _job_. This was what he signed up for, he wouldn't run now. "I'm not running, Jack. . .I _don't_ run. . .Frankly, I wouldn't be able to look Mac in the face again and tell her I decided not to do this." He turned towards the porthole and glanced out. "I'm not afraid of dying. . .If this is my fate, then it is. . .I've accepted it."

"You think you're never going home." It wasn't a question, but a statement that Keeter believed to be factual. "You're already dead if you're thinking like that, Rabb."

Angrily, Harm whipped around. "I _will_ go home, Keeter. . .Mark my words. . .Now, get out there and find me a RIO." He was damned if this whole thing was going to shake him up to the point that he was afraid of the plane that made him a famous pilot. This was his birthright.

Over the loudspeaker, he could hear his name being called. "Captain Rabb report to the Bridge, ASAP. Captain Rabb to the bridge, ASAP."

Vukovic was lying in his bunk when that request hit his ears. "Rabb's onboard?" How the hell had that happened without him knowing? As far as he remembered, nothing Hewitt said about Rabb's involvement was concrete, at least now without him being onboard and now, here he was. No doubt the man had to know that he and Mac were now 'getting along', that alone would probably unnerve him greatly. Yes, Rabb looked the jealous type. "Guess we're going to have a chat later." He grinned and settled back into his cot with a satisfied grin.

On the Bridge, Harm found Loftness, the Mini Boss and the XO in deep conversation. Lines of worry were etched into each of their faces. On the monitors above he could see a Tomcat being launched and the crew quickly setting to recover another. Despite his years flying off of the carriers, the efficiency in which things worked still amazed him. "Captain Rabb reporting as ordered." He stood at attention, waiting for the Skipper.

"At ease, Captain." There was a slight change in Loftness' persona. Despite the tumultuous ongoing of his ship, he managed a sly smile. "Have you found a RIO yet, Rabb?"

Find a RIO? He'd only just got the news about him needing one. "No, Skipper. . .Haven't gone searching for someone crazy enough to fly with me."

Loftness' grin spread wider. "Come with me." The two made it out to Vulture's row just in time to find an F-18 Super Hornet hitting the one wire. "Damn Lunatic." He sighed, waiting for the plane to stop and its crew to disembark.

"Not a picture perfect landing." Harm said with a grin. Staring downward, he spotted a very familiar figure. His luck had suddenly changed. "Skates."

"You two make a good team, I'll have to admit that." He patted Harm on the shoulder and set off back into the Bridge.

1155 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

"Congratulations on making Commander, Skates. . .You deserved it." While taking a stroll around the carrier, Harm found his RIO sitting in the mess nursing a cup of coffee. Sauntering towards the area with the java, he grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup.

Skates grinned. "Just doing my best, sir. . .Congratulations on your Captaincy, I read about it a few years back on the Naval Times. . .London, huh?" She pointed at the seat across from her, which he took with a smile.

"That didn't last too long. . .Something about being in command, sitting behind a desk all day, gave me a bad taste in my mouth." He chuckled, then took a sip of the badly brewed coffee. Wincing slightly, he placed the mug back on the table and sighed. "Damned coffee _still_ tastes like nuclear waste."

"So what are you doing now?" Skates was curious. Though they'd spent a good amount of years without communicating, she still considered Harm a friend, a good friend. If it wasn't for his heroics, she would have been shark bait.

"I'm a Reservist. Work training pilots out of San Diego. . ."

"Reserves, huh?. . .Once I got my oak leaves I went that route too." She chuckled at his amused expression and shrugged. "Well, my husband didn't like me spending so much time away. . .So, we compromised. . .Two weekends a month, two weeks a year. . .I get to fly more than ever now and civilian life is nice."

Harm smiled, one thing about Skates, her exuberance for life was infectious. "Have any kids?"

"No. . .Can't have any." She sighed, a slight sadness casting over her features. "It's fine though. . .I mean, the Navy is my life, it's always been. . .Times like these, it's better not to have too many attachments." She was one hundred percent right about that one. Settling back, she glanced outside as another plane took off. "This is really happening, huh?"

"Yea, it is." He said sadly, still not recalling feeling this bad during the Gulf War. "I'm confident though, especially with you as my backseater." It was true, besides his first RIO, Mace, there wasn't anyone else Harm trusted so implicitly.

Skates would share his sentiment. "We're a good team, huh?"

"The best."

Standing, she stretched slightly. "Guess we better get going. Skipper told me something about Quals?" At Harm's nod, she chuckled. "Don't look so happy about them. . .Guess they are trying to weed the best from the not so best?"

He swallowed down the rest of the bitter liquid, then set after Skates. "Just don't have a heart attack on me, huh?"


	9. Empty Nights

**PART 9 – Empty Nights**

2340 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Words. Sentences. Phrases. Nuances that a lawyer should know were all blurring as Sarah MacKenzie tried to read through the case loads she would hand out the next day. It was a ritual of sorts, for her to check out the cases to choose the best defense and prosecution the night before she issued them. For one thing, it allowed her to be detached from the office and concentrate more on the cases than the tension that could sometimes be wrapped around it when in a legal setting. If a case was particularly complex, she would take it herself either as prosecutor or defense - it kept her lawyering skills sharp and gave her subordinates a real challenge.

This time, the case hadn't been chosen by her. No, this one Cresswell had sent to her with specific requests that she be the prosecutor. High profile cases weren't out of the norm. In this day and age it was difficult not to have government stepping on their turf. This case, though, was a bit more complex involving the only son of California's own Congresswoman, Barbara Wolf, a ball buster who never had a pleasant thing to say about the military. The Congresswoman's son, Kent Wolf, wanted to be a Marine since his teenage years and had recently graduated from OCS.

His first few months as an officer went by without a hitch and then, suddenly, an incident report had been filed when a civilian found Wolf passed out in the front lawn of his home in Coronado. His cammies had been ripped to shreds and he was unconscious and bleeding from his groin area and severe gashes on both the base of his skull and his forehead. The real problem, however, lay in the fact that Wolf's so called 'attacker,' Major Melissa Timms, claimed that it was self defense and Wolf had tried to attack _her_.

All in all, it was a great big mess for the Marine Corps which wouldn't end well for either party. Timms' father, Robert, was on the Senate Arms Committee.

Almost automatically, Mac reached for the ringing telephone, "MacKenzie." Her sharp tone towards the caller wasn't intentional, merely a sign of the stress she was under. The fact that Harm had been away for two days wasn't helping either.

(_"Hello MacKenzie. . .This is Rabb._")

His voice brought a weary smile to her face. "Hey." She sounded tired, exhausted even, and it was clear that there was a lot going on even with the bad connection. "I was wondering when you'd get a chance to call."

(He frowned at the sound of her voice. _"You alright, Mac?. . .You sound kinda. . .funny. . .And not in a funny ha, ha, type of way either."_)

Dramatically she sighed, tossed closed the file and made her way over to the window seat. "Nothing I can't handle, but I could really use that head of yours to bounce off ideas. . .Cresswell hit me with a doozy of a case."

(Harm grinned. One thing they were still good at was bouncing ideas off of one another. _"Well, I can offer my services free of charge if you've got the time.")_

Mac sighed. She had the time, but he didn't. "It's a bit too high profile to discuss over an open line. Let's just say it involves the son of one government mogul versus the daughter of another and Cresswell has me right smack in the middle."

(_"In the middle? Explain."_)

"It's so high profile, he wants me to _pick_ which side to be on. . .No matter what, it's going to look bad for JAG. . .I guess the reason he picked me is because he trusts me."

(That sounded like the right reason. If anything, Mac was passionate enough for any of the high profile gigs. _"And who's opposing?"_)

Ah, that was something all together different. According to Cresswell, a former friend and colleague had returned. "Ah. . .well. . .Turner."

(_"Turner as in: Sturgis Turner?"_ As far as he knew, Sturgis had left the service and never looked back. They'd ended their friendship on bad terms, something that had been just as much his fault as Sturgis', but it ended badly nevertheless.)

"One in the same. . .Scuttlebutt has it that he and Varese split up and he decided to go back to what he was good at. . .I don't know, whatever. . .I have to go to Washington to try the case. Apparently one of the higher ups thinks that's neutral territory."

(Harm chuckled, it never ceased to amaze him how easily the government types could have things changed at the drop of a hat. Blink and that was it. _"Let me know because if I get out of this early, I want to be wherever you are._" The words slipped easily and though showing his true emotions hurt, it was all he could do.)

"I want that. . .I miss you, you know. . ." Moments like these she realized the true danger of loving someone so much, for Mac understood that if he were gone, she'd never, ever love again. "We're still under the same sky though. . .Under the same stars." Peeling back the curtain, she stared up at the night sky and the eerily bright stars.

(Standing from his bunk, Harm took a step and leaned over the small writing table, he held the radio in his hand. From that vantage point, he was about to see out of the porthole and up to the skies. _"I guess we're in for a lot of empty nights, huh?"_)

Mac sighed. "That's what it was last night and what it's going to be tonight. . .I'm happy that you get the chance to fly the Tomcat again. . .I'm proud that you're serving our country and that your beliefs are the same as mine. . .But, whenever I'm Sarah and not Colonel MacKenzie, it hits home and I really miss you."

(_"I really miss you, too. . .We'll get through this, Mac. . . Besides, this way I can get one hell of a welcome home."_ He grinned, the lightness showing in his voice. _"I DO have some good news. . .Skates is my RIO."_)

Oddly enough, this would probably be the first time that Sarah MacKenzie would find comfort in the fact that Harm was spending time with another woman. "That is great to hear. . .You two, I've heard good things about. . .save for that one time you decided to sabotage my wedding to Mic." She chuckled, hearing over the line that the comment had its desired effect.

(_"Ah, so now you know the truth. . .I sabotaged the wedding and then played hard to get."_ Harm chuckled. _"Apparently that story is NOT in short supply around here. . .But, Skates and I are confident that we will not have a repeat performance of that.")_

"'Course not. . .It only works when I am marrying someone you don't approve of."

(_"Thankfully, that will NEVER happen again." _He said that with conviction, knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that Mac was _his_ girl. "_I gotta go Mac, I'm being called over com. . .I just. . ."_ He trailed off, unable to prevent himself from thinking about other girlfriends and past lovers. All of the emotional moments he could have had, but never did. Until now. _". . .I just needed to hear your voice, you know?"_ )

"I know." She needed to hear his voice too, even if it was just for a bit. "Take care, Flyboy. . .Good Luck. . .I love you."

(_"Love you, too. . .Bye."_)

The connection went dead and Mac sat there for a moment, just looking at the telephone. "Back to work, MacKenzie."

1020 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

Skates sauntered into the officer's mess needing a strong cup of coffee after the berating all RIOs received in the ready room from the CAG. Two had been taken off of the project for making bonehead moves that could have cost the loss of two Tomcats and their crews. Taking her full mug, she settled for a table in the corner, seeking the comfort of being alone. Everything Keeter had said – yelled – was right on. This was a serious situation, goofing off was going to get someone killed. She shook her head, amazed that one RIO in particular, still had the balls to joke around when the CAG was giving instructions. "May I take this seat?" Glancing up, she spotted an attractive, dark haired, light eyed Lieutenant Commander with the JAG insignia pinned to the lapel of his khakis. "All the other tables are taken."

Taking a quick look around the mess, she found it to be true. "Sure, have a seat."

"Thank you, ma'am." The younger officer smiled, then settled into his chair with a deep sigh. "Things are crazy around here, aren't they ma'am?"

"They have a right to be, Commander. . . I doubt you have much to do these days at the JAG office. . .When things get sketchy on board, we tend to keep in line more."

"I still have some work to do. . .I had to go through all of your legal records before you were let on the mission. . .I presume that you are Commander Hawkes, correct?"

Skates nodded. "Yes, Commander." Glancing up, she saw Harm saunter into the mess. "Excuse me. . .Hammer! Over here!" She waved him over, pointing at a seat to her left. "Hope you don't mind. . .My driver is here."

"Hey, Skates. . .I just spoke to Mac and she says. . ." Harm trailed off completely, his smile, which Keeter called a 'shit eating grin', washed away. He still wasn't too sure what to make about Vukovic. All he knew was that Harm wouldn't trust him as far as he could throw him. "Vukovic."

Smug grin in place, Vic glanced up at Harm. "What did Mac say?"

"About you, nothing good. . .Skates on the other hand. . .She says 'hi'." Unceremoniously, he crashed into proffered chair. "How are you and Loftness getting along? Obviously, he hasn't managed to keel haul your six the hell out of here." Ah, now that was a hit, a soft one, but a hit nonetheless.

Vic chuckled. "The skipper and I are doing well as of late."

"Mmm. . . Being the SECNAV's boy, it was understandable."

Skates knew a pissing contest when she saw one and quickly intervened. "Well then, Commander. . .It was nice to sort of meet you." She came to her feet and then tugged at Harm's shirt. "Hammer, it's time to get our bird up in the air."

Vic grinned, if anything, he loved this little bit of power he held over Harm. The fact that he could torment him so much. God, if the man only knew how many things he could do. How many things he had done. _Things that were fruitless until now_. He reminded himself. Look what dealing with Ted Jarvis had done: absolutely nothing. His new attempts might wind up just as fruitless, but the chances of Rabb coming out on top. . .well. . .they were slim. "Have a nice flight."

About an hour later, Skates and Harm sat inside an F-14, going through the usual checks as they waited to do their next set of quals. "Soooo. . .You and that Lieutenant Commander. .."

Harm rolled his eyes, then gave his RIO a pointed stare. "Vukovic. . .And yes, we've a history. . .Sort of. . . .He was assigned to JAG Headquarters in Falls Church the last year I was there. . ." He checked off a few other switches. "Son of a bitch had a thing for Mac. . .And he still does."

"Permission to speak freely?"

A brow rose in amusement. "Wasn't that what we were doing?" Outside of the normal formalities between junior and senior officers, the pair acted more like friends than anything. It was surprising to hear Skates ask for permission.

Of course, he wasn't to know that the next question out of Skates' mouth fell more towards the 'touchy feely' aspect of Pilot/RIO relationships. "Did you ever figure things out with Colonel MacKenzie?" She held back her laughter when the normally cool and calm pilot literally started choking on his own spit. "Uh, you alright, sir?"

"Fine." Harm wheezed out, managing to get his breathing back under control. "Woah, odd when your own fluids go down the wrong tube."

"Guess that answers my question." Skates' smug expression couldn't be smothered even if ordered to. This information was just priceless. "I'll take it as a 'yes.'"

"Good, because it is a _yes._"

Unable to help herself, the questions started flying "Really! Since when?"

Harm nodded. "We've been together for about half a year. . .We're living together."

"Only half a year?" This was a whole new territory for her and Harm, but if he was willing to talk about it, she was willing to listen. "Do tell."

"In 2005 we went our separate ways. . .And we found each other again. . .My PI service is in San Diego and so is Mac's billet." His answer was simple, no need to go into details. This certainly wasn't the time for it and he wasn't too sure that Mac would appreciate their love life being discussed as if it were part of some movie. "We're making it work and it's working really well."

Reaching over, Skates placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of friendship. "I'm happy for you, Harm. . .And for Mac." Now, more than ever, she was going to do her best to get them both home to the ones they loved. "You know, when I found you were heading over, I requested to be your RIO."

"Oh really? The Skipper claims it was _his_ idea."

She shook her head. "It may have been a joint effort. . .Besides, you needed someone to keep you safe, else a certain Marine would kick his six _and _mine to kingdom come. . .His words not mine." It also helped that Loftness gave her a wink of understanding – a gesture that meant that the partnership between Rabb and MacKenzie was a little more serious than before.

Harm chuckled, mentally adding Loftness and Skates to those that had that sixth sense about his and Mac's relationship. "And that's all you needed to put two and two together?"

"No sir, that picture on the console helped a lot." She grinned at him over the mirror. From Skates' vantage point, she could clearly see a picture of Mac on the control panel, out of the way of any instruments, but at a place where Harm would probably see out of the corner of his eye. "So now you have this Vuko guy to contend with?"

Harm finished his checklist and then sat back to wait for more instructions. "I don't have to contend with him. . .It's just that. .. he bothers me. . .He has this thing for Mac that I don't think is healthy."

"The Colonel is a beautiful woman, Hammer. . .I'm sure he's not the only guy in the service with an unhealthy thing for her."

That was true, however, "Yea, but this is different. . .He's flirted with her too openly and though she's backed him off time and time again. . .It's like he doesn't get it."

"Maybe he does get it. . .Maybe he does this to piss you off, you know?"

"Does that mean you think I am easy to piss off, Commander?" He teased.

Oh yea, especially about things in Harm's belief system. "No, sir. . .However, you care for the Colonel deeply and men that care for women that deeply, have been known to fly over the edge a little."

"So I am overreacting?"

"No, sir. . . I would be acting the same way if I were in your shoes."

The cryptic messages behind her statements left Harm stumbled, utterly. "What is it with women? Can't you give us guys a straight answer? I swear, you need to be into crypto to decipher the messages." He radioed the tower when final instructions were given and then felt the Tomcat jerk into motion. "So, does that mean that you agree with me or am I being an ass?"

"You know him better than I do, Hammer. . .Do you think he's after the Colonel?. . .If, without a shadow of a doubt, you think this guy is after her, then you aren't overacting and you aren't being an ass. . .You are protecting her."

Harm sighed. This was the military, you couldn't just grab the person and 'handle them' the way you could as a civilian. And though the thoughts of beating the crap out of Vukovic gave him warm and fuzzy feelings, it would likely send him to the brig. Maybe that was Vic's idea? "Thing is, he's hiding something. . .I know he is. . .I just didn't have a chance to dig into it. . .The last thing I want is for Mac's career to suffer a blow because of some self serving, arrogant, bastard."

The plane was set into position and almost immediately the crew members were hooking it onto the catapult. "You know, the Colonel is one lucky woman."

"And I'm a lucky man." He smiled at Skates through the mirror and then turned to look at Mac's picture.

"You know, for the first time ever I am actually scared to go up."

That wasn't quite what she wanted to hear and yet, it was comforting somehow. "I know what you mean. . .Something about this sounds like a script to a bad melodrama." Skates stared at the blue skies above and the incoming Tomcat on the portside of the carrier. "To your recollection, has this ever happen before?"

"You mean, outside of watching TopGun?" In the modern era, there was no more dogfighting. That was a thing of old, something their fathers and grandfathers did. Now, the planes were built for bombing runs and protection of other, more susceptible planes. This was ludicrous and it wasn't supposed to happen to the strongest military force in the world. "What sucks is that all of these so called 'former' Communist countries are selling their goodies to the highest bidders. . .Civilians shouldn't be able to just go off and buy one of our planes or anyone else's."

Hawkes agreed. "Who does your gut instinct thing it is?"

"I want to say Al-Queda, but I am not too sure they're as capable as some people believe them to be. Thing is, after 9/11, a lot of radical groups have sprung up. . .Some of them more powerful and rich and able."

"I saw some of the footage that our planes shot of the incident. . .The way they fly. . ." She sighed and leaned in, almost as if she were sharing a secret. "I think they were our guys."

"Former pilots? I've never thought of that." The thought made him sick to his stomach. His former comrades flying against the country they once protected?

"Maybe. . .Or at least pilots that were US Military trained. . .some of their maneuvers are ours."

"That leaves a bad taste in my mouth, Skates." The investigative side of him was dying for a little head to head combat with these Ghost planes. The other half of him just wanted to be sitting at home with his woman at his side. "Let's hope we'll never have to find out."

December 21, 2010  
0830 Local  
JAG Headquarters  
Falls Church, Virginia

Commander Sturgis Turner stood at perfect attention in front of Creswell's desk. The man was finishing a telephone conversation and letting him sweat it out. The man had a bone to pick with him, undoubtedly so. Scuttlebutt had gotten around this community about two Naval officers who were once friends acting without civility to one another. If you asked Sturgis, he couldn't quite pin point the moment his oldest friend began hating him. He wasn't a very good friend or Naval officer when both Harm and Mac were dealing with personal issues a good five years ago. _He_ was the one who was priggish and sanctimonious, refusing to deal with his friends' issues simply because he was tired of them not making up their minds.

Now, it was with great remorse that he returned to a place which he refused to be changed by. And yet, he had changed, five years had taught him to bend or be bended. It hadn't helped that Varese had ripped his heart out and trampled it when he found her in bed with the guitar player of her band. It had hurt deeply and helped him make the decision to return back to the service. He tried a stint as a submariner for a good six months but found that his love lay squarely in the law.

Even through the years that he'd worked as Varese's manager, Sturgis never sat on his laurels. He'd kept his license current and even managed to win a court case involving her publicist. He followed the Navy Times closely, always curious in a life which he reluctantly left behind. As he stood in front of Cresswell's desk, the normally cool Naval officer began to feel the sweat trickle down his back. If his commanding officer had him simmering _this_ long, then something was definitely up.

It was about a minute later when Cresswell turned his attention to Sturgis. "Commander, have a seat." He studied the younger man for a moment, knowing that he once possessed the tools of the trade and wondering if he still did now. "I assume you've kept up with the times. . .Which means you would know about the Wolf Vs. Timms fiasco?"

"Yes, sir." Sturgis' baritone voice conceded. "It's a he said, she said type of case. . .He claims she attacked him, she claims it was self defense. . .It doesn't really help that both of them have influential parents."

The intercom buzzed and a new yeoman, Petty Officer Second Class Max Jenkins, announced Mac's arrival. "Sir, Colonel MacKenzie is here, shall I send her in?"

Cresswell couldn't hold back the smile when Sturgis' brows hit his hairline. "Yes, Max, send her in. . .Also, when you can, bring three mugs and the pot of coffee. . .Hold all other calls unless from the higher ups."

Mac stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and then marching to the front of Cresswell's desk. She stood at attention and barked out in perfect Marine fashion, "Colonel Sarah MacKenzie reporting as ordered, sir."

"At ease, Colonel, take a seat." Once she did, he waited patiently for the tension in the room to accelerate. Five years ago, everyone knew that the only reason MacKenzie dealt with Turner – or vice versa – was because both of them were good officers able to do their jobs without adding to the animosity. "Let me cut straight to the chase, seeing as I am not the type to sit and watch chaos ensue. . .I know you two _and _Captain Rabb have issues. . .I suggest you deal with them OUTSIDE of this office. . .Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Aye, sir."

"Originally, I gave the Colonel the option to choose weather she'd prosecute or defend. The two of you would have been on opposite sides. .However, you two will be on the same side this time."

Not that it was a bad thing, she and Sturgis had a knack of getting things done although they couldn't be anymore different in their methods. However, being Harm's girlfriend, she wanted to bury the man and maybe make things a little even. "Same side, sir?"

"Apparently Timms wants a private attorney."

Sturgis was concerned about something else. "When will the case begin, sir? I mean, the holidays are just around the corner."

"Well, Congresswoman Wolf apparently is friends, best friends, with the SECNAV. . .Hewitt told me, in no uncertain terms, that this must go on, even over the holidays." The two officers across from him shared looks of disapproval which quickly disappeared. This was duty and they would sacrifice anything for duty. "Colonel, you are lead counsel, Turner you'll sit section chair." He was about to hand over the information, but stopped short. There was one other thing, which he wasn't sure he should bring up in front of Sturgis. Then again, they had all been friends once, maybe this would help some? "Colonel. . .Mac. . .I know about Harm. . .I know what's going on. . .It's difficult, but you do have a job to do."

"Yes, sir."

"If at anytime this gets to be too much, you let me know. . .I'm a married man, in love with his wife. . . I know what it's like on the other side." Having said that he turned to Sturgis. "I'm sorry to hear about your recent divorce, Commander. . . I do hope you find someone worthy of you." With that, the touchy feely moment came to an end. "Now, let's get to work. . .I'll be damned if some Washington legal weenie is going to beat _my_ lawyers."


	10. War Of The Angels

Ah, I can see the e-mails now, the hate mail, the torches and pitchforks.  
Then the sobbing, yup, lots of sobbing. ;)

That's your warning, but with it comes a silver lining, keep the faith, all  
is not as bad as it seems.

Jackie

**PART 10 – War Of The Angels**

December 21, 2010  
1745 Local  
JAG Headquarters  
Falls Church, Virginia

It was odd to sit in the conference room, a place that held so many memories, both good and bad. The place still smelled of leather and musty books, a scent that was almost as unique as the room itself. Mac's fingers gently brushed the oak table. How many evenings had she and Harm spent in here, alone, working on a case? In the beginning of their working partnership, each of them had seen more of that table than their own apartments. She smiled at a fond memory of a young Lieutenant Commander Rabb who kept staring at her, only to shy away when caught. He'd confessed once that he was trying to find the differences between her and Diane. Still, those looks gave away to ones that Mac could _now_ categorize as ones of longing. There was a passion in his eyes that she didn't dare drown in. A passion that she'd often find herself returning when he wasn't looking. But, they'd always catch each other – always.

Professionalism was the only thing that stood in the way back then. The two of them were just too reluctant to give up their jobs for one another. Now, Mac often wondered if things would have remained status quo had they still been working together. _Damn, that would have sucked._ She thought to herself, sighing deeply.

The one thing that tended to tick her off was the fact that all of their friends kept on mentioning how they _knew_ that they were right for each other. Friends who never bothered to really speak up. The only one who seemed to step up to the plate was Sturgis. And what did that get him? Nothing but rude remarks, and fine, maybe he was right about Harm and Mac sucking him into their problems, although, he tended to care too much and go willingly. Glancing up at the man, Mac wondered if it would have made a difference had she not told him to keep her statement about being "in love" with Harm a secret? It was doubtful that he would have said anything, but what if he had? What then?

Mac sighed again, shaking her head from the current reverie. _Stop thinking "what ifs" MacKenzie! You're with Harm now, the road here doesn't really matter anymore._ Yes, it did. Mac knew that it did.

"Something wrong, ma'am?" It was her fourth sigh in less than twenty minutes and although the work _was_ tedious, Mac was never one to give into exhaustion.

Rolling her eyes, she gave him a pointed glare. "Sturgis, you and I were friends once. . .You don't have to call me ma'am. . .It's Mac unless something formal pops up."

Now it was Sturgis' turn to sigh. He'd been dreading the little talk about 'friendship' which he was sure would arrive at some point or another. Thankfully, she hadn't full out asked him about Harm. "Fine, _Mac_. . .Is something wrong?" His voice held all the condescension he'd felt for five years.

"Okay, that's it." Angrily, she chucked her pen towards the table and stood up so fast the chair crashed to the floor. "I am sick of this shit with you. . .If you want me to treat you like a subordinate I will, especially if it ends this animosity between us. . .Now, _Commander_, wanna have it out once and for all?"

Sturgis sat there, shocked and unable to look up at a woman he once considered his friend. "Ma'am, permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

Taking a breath, Sturgis raised his head. "I'm not the type to apologize for things, but I realize that the last two years you and Captain Rabb were at JAG Headquarters I wasn't very friendly." There, he'd said the one thing that had been bugging him for five years. . . Well, less than five years, the first couple of years, he thought he was right.

Slowly, Mac picked the chair off of the floor and slid back into it. So, this thing was going to play out like this? Good, this she could handle, a battle of words, her brain wasn't ready to run that way. "I know you were pissed off at me for not realizing what Harm had given up for me. . .I was a bitch, I know. . .I was just put. . .No, no excuses. . . I _put_ myself in a situation and when it went out of control and threw me off kilter, it took some time for me to find myself again. . .I realize that this affected those around me and that includes you. . .I apologize for that, Sturgis. . .About Harm and I. . .the thing is, you never got both sides of the story."

He shook his head. "I never really got either side of the story. . .All I remember was going to Harm's place and finding him, half drunk, playing the blues on his guitar being as pissed off as can be. . .You were an easier target at the time. . .All of your 'I don't miss him' kinda things. . .It hurt. . .It was like. . like friends, to you, were expendable."

"It hurt me too." That tidbit broke her heart just a little. How could she ever say that she didn't miss him? "My friends. . .My good friends, you included, weren't, aren't and will never be expendable, Sturgis. . .As for Harm and I, during that mission with Webb things got sketchy and we both said things to each other that shouldn't have been said. . .Harm hurt me and I hurt him a hell of a lot more. . .See, he couldn't make up his mind about us and so, I decided to make it up for him only to find that it was a mistake." Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping that a slight bit of pain would stop those memories from flooding. "I'll admit, the time I chose to talk with him was pretty shitty."

"I know Rabb was and probably _still is_ stubborn. . .What ticked me off was the fact that you pretended not to give a damn about him."

Pretended? Was there anyone who didn't see past her charade? It didn't help that she had a wide grin and was practically skipping into the office after she saw that footage on ZNN of Harm landing that C-130 on a carrier. "I was trying to fool myself and others that I didn't care. . .It didn't work for either party."

"I noticed." He grinned smugly at her, took his pen and continued to fill in notes on a legal pad.

Now, Mac knew it was her turn to take a real shot, a blow to chink Sturgis' armor. "What I don't understand is what happened between you and Harm. . .You two were best friends."

"He wasn't my best friend anymore. . .You were." Sturgis frowned.

Her brow rose in confusion. "You were jealous?"

"No, I just knew where things stood. . .I was the 'guy' friend." He said making quotation fingers. "The one he would go to when he needed 'guy' advice." He shrugged. "You were the go to girl. . .I mean, you probably know more about him than anyone on this planet. . .And I wasn't jealous, but. . .maybe a little intimidated." Glancing up, he smiled at her. "I also thought you two were together and that's a line that friends shouldn't cross. . .So I kept behind that line."

Mac chuckled. "Even when we told you we weren't together?"

"It took a while for me to realize you two _really_ hadn't been together romantically. . .So, I did like everyone else: stood on the sidelines and watched."

She still didn't get where Sturgis was going and there was no way that work would continue until this was all hatched out. "So, it was _me_ that made you have problems with Harm?"

No, his problems with Harm probably began right around the time of the Singer trial. "I think he was pretty peeved at all of us for staying away during his trial. I'm sure that had a part in him leaving and not staying in touch. . .Past that, I'm not sure. . .When he came back, I think he was pissed off that he wasn't JAG's golden boy anymore. . .I'm not saying that I was, but you know Chegwidden would have given Acting JAG to Harm if he didn't have so many hits on his record."

"You can't deny that you were a jerk, Sturgis." She flat out said, shaking her head. The good preacher's boy had turned into a power hungry jackass. "You tried to run such a tight ship that it. . .it made things unbearable."

He sighed deeply, when would they get it? "Mac, if the shoes were reversed and _you_ were Acting JAG and I was asking for a big favor which you know, for a fact, bent a few too many rules of the Navy, what would _you_ have done?"

She winced slightly. They had been rather voracious with the favors and asking for details on Webb's disappearance was a bit. . .low. Chegwidden certainly wouldn't have given them to her and if he had, it would be handed over with enough leach to hang herself. But she was desperate then, not so much because she actually _loved_ Webb. More because she couldn't live with that void in her life. They'd shared something and she owed it to him to find the truth. "I guess we were, subconsciously trying to use you. . ."

"This was bigger than us, Mac. . . Chegwidden, _THE JAG_, resigned. . .I wasn't acting JAG for the weekend while the Admiral went on a fishing trip. . .This was different and I couldn't and wouldn't turn the other cheek. . .Not after the SECNAV tried to railroad us, not after the upheaval between staff members and certainly not because we were friends. . .It bothered me, okay. . .I wished. . .I wished I could have done more. . .I know Harm took certain things personal and I admit. . .between he and I. . .I tended to overcompensate because I knew the measures he'd go to get what he wanted. . .Even if it was something he wanted for you." There was one moment in time, that he should have been more lenient, but damnit, he was tired of having to bend backwards for the great Harmon Rabb. Still, his tactics were deplorable. As a friend, he should have done more. "The only one who could really accuse me of being a bad friend was Harm. . .I should have. . .could have looked into his investigation with the Hornet better. . .I hung him out to dry on purpose. . .I've spent the last few years praying that God and Harm could forgive me over that."

Mac understood. "It's not late to turn things around, you know? You two have been friends since Annapolis. . .That's not something that should be tossed away because of your egos. . .It means something." Her lips curled up in a smirk. "Not to mention, it would be fun to have you hanging around our house from time to time. . .I still remember all of those fun, staff, poker matches."

Sturgis completely caught that 'our house' statement. "Soooo, does that mean that you and Harm have. . .ah. . .figured it out?"

Her smile was infectious. "Oooh yea. . .Figured it out, worked it out. . .Did the deed." Mac did her best not to break out in hysterical laughter at the shocked look on Sturgis' face. "Actually, we've been living together for a little under half a year." Sometimes it was still unbelievable that Harm was hers.

"Took long enough, damnit. . .You two. . .You didn't end in good terms. . ." He recovered nicely.

"No, we didn't. . .And we didn't reunite in good terms either. .. I was still pissed at him and Harm was trying to get chummy. . .But, it's worked you know?. . .I feel so foolish because everyone seemed to know we were good together and we were. . .oblivious."

After placing the pen on top of the legal pad, Sturgis leaned into the chair and stretched. "Not to be nosy." He grinned, "But, what's going on? What was all that relationship advice from Cresswell? Trouble in paradise?"

"No." She sighed, trouble in paradise would be much better than this. . .not knowing. "I'm not supposed to go into details, but. . .Harm's. . .he's flying. . .It's classified. . .and not good."

The look in her eyes gave Mac completely away. It was more than 'not good', it was almost as if she were certain that he'd never return. "As a submariner I've been on many of those 'not good' missions, Mac. . .and I'm still here."

"This is different. . .The odds of us losing are higher. . .so are the stakes. . .I'm sorry, I can't get into more details."

Sturgis nodded. "I assume Harm filled you in when he left?"

"Yes, I technically have the clearance for it seeing as Vukovic was handling legal affairs for the squadron."

Okay, wait a minute and back up. Vukovic? "And what does Vukovic have to do with anything?" Was that creep still hanging around! One thing he couldn't stand was the way the kid would treat the women in JAG Ops. It was disgusting.

Mac rolled her eyes, then let out a deep breath. "He's on my staff. .. No I didn't want him there, but apparently he's buddy buddy with the new SECNAV and, like a bad rash, he's impossible to get rid of. . ."

She took a breath, then asked a question that had been nagging her since scuttlebutt ran rampant around the Navy. "Varese and you?"

Sturgis shook his head. It was inevitable that people would find out, hell, even THE JAG knew. "I found her with another guy. . .The guitar player and her apparently had a thing. . . I know my father would be upset, but I. . .I just can't forgive her."

The look of compassion in Mac's face was an odd but welcomed sight. Too bad it took him so long to realize he needed his friends. "I'm sorry. . .I really am."

"Thanks, Mac. . ." Trying to get back to work had become slightly impossible, not because of the conversation, but because of the one thing that had been nagging Sturgis Turner for five years. "Damnit. . .I want my friends back." The words came out rushed, but Mac heard him clearly. It was the first time she'd ever really seen Sturgis wearing his heart on his sleeve. "The last two years that we worked here I was an ass. . .I lost my closest friends because of it. . .I know 'I'm sorry' doesn't cut it. . .but, I _am_ sorry."

Mac rested against the back of her chair and folded her arms across her chest. She studied the man for the third time today. He was different. Maybe they all were? Maybe time is all they needed to mend fences and pull up new ones. "I'll forgive you under one condition. . .Forgive me for trying to use you because you were my friend."

Grinning, Sturgis stood up, reached across the table and offered Mac his hand. "Deal." The two shook on it and though everything wasn't back to normal, one friendship was renewed.

December 23, 2010  
2152 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed.

"_I still can't talk you out of this, huh?. . .Stay safe, Hammer."_ Sitting in the open cockpit, Harm and Skates were waiting to be shot off of the carrier. In his head, Harm kept replaying the conversation he had with Keeter the previous night. It was clear that his friend knew this was a suicide mission, that the chances of heading home were close to nil. And still, he had to do it. He _had_ to.

**Flashback – The night before.**

Harm was laughing, something that not many pilots onboard the Henry were doing anymore. There wasn't anything cheerful about the situation. Tension had made the quals intensely difficult and many had been booted off of the squadron resulting in a total of six Tomcat teams. Harm was the squadron leader, a title given to him for two reasons – his skills and a JAG lawyer with a chip on his shoulder, Vukovic, who did everything possible to make sure Harm would go up. He typed a response to Mac, over Messenger, wishing that he could hear her voice.

"Chatting with Mac, are ya?" Keeter asked from his bunk, sometimes missing that 'lil woman' in his life. Women, for him, were just for fun, the types to have in every port but never come home to. Jack Keeter had forever resigned to the fact that if the Navy didn't issue him a wife, he didn't need one. "Don't deny it, you have this shit eating grin."

Turning slowly, Harm glared at his friend. "So? I have a girl. You'd have one too if you'd ever get over Penny Benjamin dumping you our third year."

"Penny Benjamin, hah!" Truth was, the girl had ripped his heart out, totally. And, alright, he'd admit it to himself, he never wanted to feel that way again. "I was the one that dumped her and don't you forget it."

"Whatever Keeter." Harm chuckled. "Mac says 'hi', by the way."

"Hi back." His tone was flat, unemotional and not even slightly jovial. "You're a fucking idiot, Rabb, you know that?"

Turning to Keeter once again, Harm shot him an alarming look. "Excuse me?"

"Yea, you heard me, you're a fucking idiot. . .You have this beautiful woman waiting at home and you're here. . .Screw duty or any other crap the Navy put in your head. You're a reservist. . .You don't even have to be a reservist, but it's like. .. you're a damned adrenaline junkie who won't give up the fix even for the girl he loves."

His eyebrows raised just shy of his hairline. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Mac, Harm. . .You can die out there. . . Chances are you will die out there and you're just willing to do it."

"Gee, thanks for the ego boost, Jack. . .Remind me not to listen to your pep talks in the ready room."

Keeter tossed his legs over the side and came to his feet. "I'm not joking, Harm. . .You're a good friend and normally, this is where I'd want you to be. . .You're one of the best, if not the best. . .But, this is one that you should have stepped down from . . . This isn't about you anymore."

Harm shook his head in confusion. No matter how difficult the fight, Keeter wasn't one to ever throw in the towel. "What the hell happened to you?. . .Damnit, Keeter, you've never backed away from a fight. . .never. . .Not even in Annapolis, when that jackoff, Middie, Stephenson was threatening to beat me into a pulp. . .You were always the first one in our corner, egging us on."

His friend was clearly not the same as before. But it wasn't being CAG that had changed him, at least, not the position itself, but rather an occurrence because of his powerful spot. Bowing his head, Keeter leaned into the hatch and sighed nervously. "I've had to speak to two of the wives and one of the girlfriends for the guys that died. . .The skipper's been too busy and. . .I volunteered. I figured that I was tougher, I wasn't attached to anyone so this would be easy. . ." But, when the first call went the way that it had, Jack Keeter changed – the armor was exposed. "It wasn't easy. . .How the hell do you call a newlywed and tell her that her husband, which she didn't even get a chance to honeymoon with, is dead. . .And that it's your fault because you sent him up there?"

Now Harm understood the insistence of Keeter's askance. As a lawyer, one was trained to often be the bearer of bad news. He couldn't count the times that he and Mac were present when someone was informed about a loved one's passing. "I know it's hard, Jack. . . Damnit, I still remember when I was five and they came to tell my mom about dad."

"I didn't know those guys' girls, Harm. . .But, I know Mac." He couldn't imagine hearing her cry to him, damnit it was enough that he'd spent several days with her in the desert talking about her adventures with Harm. That light in her eyes when she spoke about him. . .The way she blushed when a particular memory came to mind. The woman even said his name in her dreams. "Mac's been in love with you forever and you pick this time to figure it out? You have got to be the most dense man on this planet. . .And then above it all, above all of the grief you two had put yourselves through, you go and get yourself into this war. . ."

"Jack, this isn't your fault. . .It isn't any of our fault. . .I stayed as a reservist because I knew my skills were needed and I do not regret it. . .If anything, I would regret not being here and chickening away from something I could change."

Keeter pushed off of the hatch, coming dangerously close to his friend. "You aren't Superman! That Tomcat out there isn't bullet proof!. . ." He took a breath and then stumbled back to the edge of his bunk. "I don't want to call Mac and tell her that you're gone. . .I don't want to. . .I can't."

"Have a little faith. . .Nothing is going to happen."

**End Flashback.**

"Have a little faith. . .Nothing is going to happen." From the back seat, he heard Skates say the words that had become a mantra for the last few days.

The sun was baking them from high above making the temperature rise to a nice, scorching one hundred and seven degrees on the deck. Thankfully, the light breeze kept some of the heat at bay. "You know, the worst is this waiting. . .This sucks. . .What are they waiting for?" It wasn't any fun strapped onto a zillion dollar aircraft if you couldn't fly the damned thing!

Skates shrugged. "Maybe they're waiting for that pencil neck Washington Weenie to review our records again." She was referring to Vukovic, a man who she really didn't like, for good reason. "He got under my skin yesterday, Hammer."

"What the hell did he do now?" Will they ever stop hearing about the younger officer's antics?

"He kept pestering me about you and I flying. . .Apparently he found out about that little trip we took the night of the Colonel's wed . . .I mean, May 2001."

Harm chuckled. "It's alright, Skates, Mac and I have talked in great lengths about that night. . ."

"Yea, but still, sir. . .No reason to bring it up." She cringed visibly, the woman _was _marrying another man back then. The idea made her cringe. "Anyway, he wanted to know how you were found. . .Seems like the records say that the Viking was searching for you somewhere else after they found me."

Alright, so that was a slight bit odd. There was nothing in those transcripts of interest, just normal SAR procedures and a crazy environment with an overly zealous Skipper. True, they had been searching in one area and practically headed the opposite way on a _hunch. _Ingles had broken quite a few protocols to test the hunch and wound up a hero along with the SAR crew for their tenacity. But when news spread from the bridge to other areas of the carrier about the 'miracle rescue,' Mac too was a hero. "I thought everyone knew that she found me."

"Hammer, that happened like an eon ago."

He laughed with earnest. "An eon? Damn, Skates, am I really _that_ old?"

Using the mirror, she peaked at him and winked. "No sir! From where I am sitting, I am thinking that the Colonel is one damn lucky woman."

Harm shook his head, the real lucky person was him.

Any other discussion about Vic was over as orders to move the Tomcat towards the catapult's shuttle came over the airwaves. "Roger that."

Leaning near the hatch which led into the island, one man in working khakis stood wearing a survival vest, goggles and cranial as required by those working on the flight deck. From his vantage point he could see a young man in a brown shirt, plane captain, Airman Vincent "Vinnie" Arjan who was standing by waiting for Harm's plane to launch. He waved the Airman over, grinning when the younger man sprinted across the deck. "Did you do it?" He yelled over the regular noises as one plane shot off the number four catapult.

Vinnie's head was cast down, what he had done was treasonous at best and he knew it. Captain Rabb seemed like a nice guy, so did the RIO, which is why it twisted the knife into his back just a little bit more. "Yes, Commander. . .I made sure that the ejec. . ."

Vukovic raised his hand to stop the flow of information. "I don't need to know the details." No, the less he knew, the better, it would make it more difficult to incriminate him. Not that he would be incriminated, if things went as planned, they wouldn't have to worry about a plane shooting the Tomcat out of the sky. It would fall all on its own. "You're doing a good thing, Airman."

"Then why do I feel like shit, sir?"

A day earlier, Vuckovic was sitting at his desk in the JAG office, waiting for _something_ to happen. It wasn't enough that Rabb was going up, as suicidal as the missions supposedly was, it wasn't suicidal enough for him. So he decided to take measures into his own hands. Dawning a pair of workout clothes, he headed down to the hangar and made good use of the exercise equipment all the while watching Airman Arjan with his friends. It was nearly an hour later, when Vinnie headed towards the Tomcat, tool kit in hand. Vukovic followed without anyone wondering much about his actions – people were just too tense to care. There he struck a bargain of sorts – some would say it was more like blackmail. The details of the 'bargain' were sketchy at best, but it involved the words 'Leavenworth', 'hard labor' and 'life imprisonment.' Those were words that Airman Arjan didn't like in the same context. _"I haven't done a thing, sir." _He'd insisted.

"_I find that very hard to believe. No one is clean, Vinnie. We all have skeletons in our closet. . .I just have to push the right buttons to find yours. . .And if I can't, hell, I can just. . .make it up."_ He'd said with a flourish.

The Airman was normally cool, collected and much older beyond his years. He was a good kid, wanted to be a pilot someday and fly the planes he'd worked on for so long. He wanted to be the future of the Navy, a future that wouldn't look too good behind Leavenworth's bars. So, he gave in, with a heavy heart and unshed tears. _"What do you want me to do?"_

Vukovic didn't give the kid any real details, just explained that Rabb was not to make it back on board. The rest, was history. "You feel like shit because you don't realize this is for the greater good."

"Who's greater good, sir? Certainly not the Navy's. Definitely not Captain Rabb's nor Commander Hawkes'" He glanced towards Harm's plane as the JBD rose behind the F-14. It was his last chance to prevent the plane's take off. His last chance to save two lives and maybe even more. His body shifted slightly and Arjan felt Vic's hand wrap around his bicep.

"Don't you dare, Arjan. . .I swear to God, if you make a peep, I'll kill you." It was the first actual threat towards the young man's life. One that didn't involve blackmail of any kind. The sounds of the engines coming to life meant that time was over. "Game over." Playfully, he knocked on Arjan's cranial helmet, then stepped into the island.

Inside the Tomcat, Harm took one final look at Mac's picture, then turned to salute the flight crew. "Here we go." Seconds later, the plane cut through the steam simmering out of the catapult and shot off the deck hurling the team into the blue skies. The adrenaline was rushing through Harm's veins as he pushed the plane skyward.

He brought the plane up to about fifteen thousand feet along with his wingman, Commander Scott "Clipper" Dodson and RIO Commander Jansen "Tex" Lutheran. "Wonderland this is Ripper Two-Five-Niner, waiting for further instructions."

"Roger, Ripper Two-Five-Niner, bank four five degrees West." The air traffic control said over the radio.

Harm and Clipper made the corrections and were soon heading super sonic towards the unknown. "Hey Hammer, it's getting rather dark along these parts. . . Tex sees a nasty cell heading our way."

Skates switched to Doppler and frowned. "I see it too, Hammer. . .five minutes West of us. . .I'll let the tower know. Wonderland this is Ripper Two-Five-Niner, Doppler is showing a nasty storm cell just West of us, copy." The connection from the carrier came back scratchy and unrecognizable. "Breaking up Wonderland, say again." Not a single sound came through the line save for a low pitched shrill that nearly made both pilots and RIOs want to cover their ears.

"What the hell is that?" Harm said, shaking off a sudden wave of vertigo induced by the continuing noise.

Clipper groaned. "Dunno, but it's. . .damn, Hammer, my head."

Harm could feel it too, it was almost like blacking out but not quite getting there. His head felt as if it were swelling so big that it could no longer fit inside the helmet. "I feel it too, Clipper. . .I think we should go back."

Skates was desperately trying to find a new frequency to, somehow, cut the noise. Her only option was to go completely silent and if that happened, she wouldn't be able to contact Harm. "I can't get Wonderland on any frequency. . .Damnit!" Frustrated, she was tempted to slam her fist against the controls. "Clipper, we have to turn back, maybe if we get closer to the Island we'll be alright."

Having suffered countless concussions, Harm was able to take the pressure much longer. Clipper, on the other hand, wasn't handling it too well. "Where are we?" They heard him say over the line and from their vantage point, both Harm and Skates could see the man swinging his head wildly, probably trying to get reoriented. "Hello?"

"Shit, Harm. . .Tex, can you take over the controls?" She pushed a hand against the canopy, staring over towards their wingman.

Tex's voice came in the form of a low groan. "Can't. . .I'm not doing too good. . ." He tapped Clipper's shoulder roughly. "Clip, c'mon man. . .SNAP OUT OF IT."

The internal battle for control had Harm shaking. From inside his mask he could feel an iron smelling, warm liquid dripping out of his nose. "Clipper, follow me." He swung the F-14 in front of his wingman and waited a few seconds for Clipper to respond. "Clip, follow me home."

"Yea. . .Yea. . ." The man seemed to snap out of it long enough for the F-14s to turn back around towards the carrier. "Damnit, this noise. . .I can't hold out much longer."

"TRY damnit." Harm yelled, he swallowed down the bile that rose up his throat. "Skates, how far are we?"

Skates punched the numbers on the radar and sighed. "Three minutes out. . .Can you land though?"

"We're gonna see, aren't we?" He glanced out of the canopy, spotting Clipper flying just next to him. "Clip, are you oriented enough to land?"

Clipper turned to look out at Harm's plane and gave him the thumbs up. "I sure as hell am going to. . ." The sentence was cut off as two, sleek black objects zoomed past the Tomcats. "Shit!"

It was at that moment that the low pitched noise cut off and the airwaves were free again. "Skates?"

"Already on them. . ." She was working on the computers as fast as possible, trying to get more information from the carrier and the planes that had just zoomed past them. "Wonderland, this is Ripper Two-Five-Niner, hostiles in the area, do you copy?" Nothing. Only static over the line. "Shit, Harm. . ."

"You were a JAG, Hammer. . .What's the protocol." Tex asked.

Harm sighed, the rules of engagement were clear, never fire until fired upon. That was nice when he was on the ground, but sitting on a hunk of flying metal. . . "If they buzz us again, shoot to kill." As he said that the onboard computer alarm went off signifying that something had a lock on. "Shit. . .Clipper on my mark break hard right. . .Three, two. . .mark!" The planes broke apart, Clipper going right, Harm going left. He dipped the plane downwards and then upwards again, the maneuver bringing him right smack behind the black jet. "It's a MIG 25."

Skates stared up at the aircraft with great wonder. With all her time in the Navy, the only plane she'd ever went head to head with were those in training. "Jesus Christ. Hammer, is it too late to ask if you've done this before?"

Maybe it was the way she asked, or maybe it was the question itself, but Harm had to laugh. "Operation Desert Storm, Skates." He got on his controls putting the radar lock into good use. "Let's try to bug him out." As he tried to get tone, the Tomcat suddenly dropped altitude. "Woah!"

"What the? Hammer?" Skates hung on for dear life, her already shaken head not able to take many more sudden movements. "Hammer!"

The plane was as unresponsive as could be, all attempts to bring it back up were failing. "Shit! Skates. . .Controls aren't working. . .Switching to manual." He pressed several buttons and let out a deep breath as he managed to semi-stabilize the aircraft.

"That's better, but we're still falling. . ."

Heavy static came over the airwaves again and a frantic yelling of sorts. "Ham-mer. . .MIG. . .six."

Turning to look backwards, Skates could see Clipper's aircraft about to shoot over them, on his tail was another MIG. "Harm! Clipper's in trouble."

_So are we!_ Harm thought as he pulled up on the stick sending the plane in an erratic movement upwards, the plane was once again responsive. "I have control!" The sound of a massive blast brought both pilot and RIO to look portside. "Oh God. . .Clip. . .Tex." From behind the fireball a black object was sailing the skies victoriously. "Jesus. . .Skates do you see chutes?"

Skates squinted, trying to pin point what Harm was looking for. "Yes! Two. . ." A sudden "ratt-ta-tatt" sound resonated within their own aircraft. "Shit! We're being fired upon!"

"Over my dead body are they bringing us down, Skates." He said a silent prayer, glanced at Mac's picture and shoved his body slightly forward. The plane flew straight up, banked hard left, the rolled up behind on of the MIGs. Almost immediately, the Tomcat had tone. "Take this you bastard." He launched two missiles, the first one hitting seconds later, sending the plane into oblivion. "Woah! Got one. . .where's two?"

Skates turned around. "Coming in behind us, fast and furious. . .Slow down and on my mark, break hard left."

"Roger that." He waited patiently, keeping the Tomcat as straight as possible. The speed was coming down slowly and not too soon, he heard Skate's command and sent the plane banking left. "Where is he Skates?"

She glanced all over, trying to find the aircraft that seemed to just disappear. The sounds of bullets permeating the Tomcat left her slightly rattled. "Son of a bitch! Engine 1 has been hit!"

"Shut it down." He waited for the engine's termination and swallowed hard. If flying the plane was impossible before, this would be hell. "Skates, I see the ship, I'm going to fly away from it, I don't want this son of a bitch heading towards it. . .Start ejection procedures. . .I can't keep this up anymore." He was covered in sweat, almost as if a bucket of water had been poured over him. The liquid was burning his eyes, making it difficult to see.

"Already there." She said, knowing that they wouldn't have a chance in hell to bring the plane home in one piece. "Try to keep her up as long as possible."

The MIG flew over them, turning to the right and coming around for another shot. "Hurry!"

"Done. . .Lock shoulder harness."

"Shoulder harness locked."

"Visor down."

"Visor down." He repeated, bringing the dark shield over his eyes. "Masks already on."

Skates quickly made the sign of the cross and sent off a small prayer that she would get back home to her husband. "I'll see you down there, sir."

"Eject now!" Harm yelled, praying that this time his seat would follow hers just seconds later. The canopy blew and a hard rocking confirmed that Skates' seat had ejected. He took a final glance at Mac's picture. Two seconds later, he realized he was staring at it just a second too long. "No! Not again!" The computers on the aircraft were going completely haywire, a loud shrill beaming above all others signified that the MIG had a lock on. "Eject! Goddamnit, eject you piece of shit!" He pulled the manual ejection handle, but it would not budge. "No!. . .No!" He tried again, frantically pulling. "Jesus Christ. . .please!"

On the bridge, nearly everyone was assembled watching as a black jet followed one of their own. With binoculars they'd seen the canopy blow and a tiny blast of an ejector seat followed by the welcomed sight of a parachute. "One chute, sir!" The XO yelled, patting the Airboss on the back. The moment was tense, too tense. It shouldn't have taken _that_ long for the other seat to fire. Seconds later, there was a huge fireball, too huge, and both Tomcat and MIG disappeared.

Captain Loftness was also watching, cautiously optimistic that both pilot and RIO would be safe. "Did anyone see another chute?" No answer. "Damnit, did anyone see another chute!" He yelled, turning to the group who stared at him with blank faces.

The Airboss shook his head. "No sir."

From his perch just next to Loftness, Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic bit back a smile. There was no doubt in his mind that Captain Harmon Rabb Jr. was dead.


	11. Neroli

**PART 11 – Neroli**

December 23, 2010  
1721 Local  
JAG Headquarters  
Falls Church, Virginia

"Well, so far so good, huh, Mac?" Sturgis was grinning like a kid in a candy store. The day had gone relatively well and his partnership with Mac had managed to taint civilian lawyer Charles Embry's defense of Major Melissa Timms. The judge was even considering letting their client out with the promise that he wouldn't run. Mac was one hundred percent certain that he was telling the truth and Timms had attacked him. The day earlier, when she and Sturgis had discussed the case with Wolf, there was something about him that made her believe what he was saying, something that Sturgis concurred. That was a good sign.

Mac matched his grin. "I can't believe the defense tried that tactic. A motion to dismiss with basically no ground. . .I. . .ah. . .I. . ." She swayed slightly, her right hand wrapped around the railing, as her left hand came to rest on her forehead. visions that came played behind her closed eye lids like a black and white movie. It was surreal, intense and it shook her to the core. Harm was in trouble. As she snapped out of it, her hand tried to steady her body, but it was no use and she stumbled down the last four steps.

"Mac!" Sturgis tried to reach for her but was unable to grab on to anything but her jacket. It slowed her down some, but not enough to prevent the fall. He came to his knees next to his friend and turned her head slowly. "Mac?"

She was still conscious but shaking furiously. "Harm." Her eyes settled on Sturgis with a sadness he'd never seen before. "Harm. . .Something happened to him."

As much as he wanted to disbelieve that connections between two people existed, he couldn't. The look in Mac's eyes made him believe just a little bit more. "What is it? What did you see?"

"Fire and water." Her head felt as if it were going to explode, her eyesight began to cloud over. "Harm. . .No." She called out as she slowly went into a visionless darkness.

"Someone call 911!" A small group had begun to form around Sturgis and Mac. Mostly junior officers gawking at the scene. One of them soon sprung into action, running for the nearest telephone, relaying as much information as possible to the operator.

The General was about to head towards the elevators when the commotion brought him to the scene. "Commander, what happened?"

Sturgis glanced up at his CO only briefly. "She took a spill, sir. . . We were talking about the case and she reached for the railing and stumbled." He looked Cresswell squarely in the eye and sighed. "It's Harm, sir. . .something happened."

Cresswell shook his head, his brow furling in confusion. "What do you mean 'something happened'? Explain yourself."

"I'm not so sure you're going to believe me. .. but."

December 24, 2010  
1345 Zulu  
Location Unknown

The soft sounds of waves lapping at the beach made up for the rain which had poured down overnight. A gentle breeze was rustling the leaves outside of the small 'house' which sat a good hundred plus feet away from the shore. It was only a house in the mere sense that a couple, Connor and Ella Gerard, had made it their place of residence. Past that it was probable that only castaways and members of indigenous, jungle dwelling tribes could deem their home a 'house.' It was shaped in normal fashion, four walls, some windows and a up-side-down 'v' shaped roof, however, none of it was made from conventional building materials such as concrete and plaster. It was made from products of the land around them, a land with no name and no country.

So yes, in a sense, they were castaways – save for the small army which had assembled 'over the river and through the woods', so to speak.

Slowly, Ella opened her eyes and glanced up at the thatched ceiling made out of palm leaves to find that, miraculously, it wasn't leaking. That alone was one thing to give thanks for. Turning to the left, her eyes settled on the deeply tanned skin of her husband, Connor. "Luv, go back to sleep. . .Smell the atmosphere, it's just going to rain again anyway." He turned towards her, his lips curling into a smile. Despite their living situation, it wasn't all that bad. He was with the woman he loved and they were alive. Of course, it had been six hundred thirty five days since they'd been shoved into a hellhole which some lunatics considered 'paradise', but they were alive.

"I know. . .I am just _tired_ of being in here." She pouted, then lay back down, welcoming his strong arm wrapping around her middle. Who would have thought that two well paid aeronautics engineers would wind up in a situation that seemed to come straight from a movie? All they needed were loin cloths to make this another version of _The Blue Lagoon._

It was nearly three years ago when they'd been approached by a group calling itself "Neroli." She and Connor had been working in Sweden then, helping out with plans for a new aircraft which would bring the world into the future. An aircraft that even the USA was taking interest in, the work would set them up for life and hopefully bring them closer to that family life that they'd both wanted. Connor was contacted first in secrecy. Meetings would occur in a shady club just outside of Stockholm. The instigator was definitely American with a John Wayne swagger and a demeanor that screamed 'traitor.' It was a conversation that brought light upon a secret organization of 'disgruntled' (for lack of a better word) ex-American patriots with just a little too much money and free time on their hands. _"We understand that you and your wife are currently the best. . .And that's just what we need."_

"_Best for what?_" Connor asked with a great deal of trepidation. Despite the fact that he could look the part of a sexy tough guy, he was really just a wuss. The information that was relayed to him made Connor physically sick. Why would anyone betray their country? Why would Americans want to fight America? Understandably, the last few years hadn't been proud moments in American history. Everything following 9/11 had been covered in blood and some were sick of it. Neroli wanted to take things into their own hands, teach the world what a small group with money and drive could do. _"I won't take part in this, neither will Ella!" _That was his mistake, pretending to be a tough guy who could do 'tough guy' negotiations. And he'd thought he'd won too. In fact, they allowed him to go home. When he arrived two men were waiting for him, one seated on the sofa reading a magazine. The other was standing behind his wife holding a gun to her head. The message was clear and since then, they'd served Neroli because of fear.

The group was good, managing to score anything from an oil rig to expensive MIG 25s which he and Ella worked on upgrading. They were shipped off to a small island just between Africa and South America that seemed to have been built specifically for that reason. It was as uncharted as uncharted islands came. The shipping lanes were hundreds of miles away in any direction. They were, in a word, isolated. Problem with working for secret organizations was their nasty ability to make you disappear and with Neroli, they didn't have to go too far.

They still needed the couple and for that reason, they were tossed on the opposite side of the island, far away from the base, where occasionally some provisions were dropped on their doorstep. A doorstep which the two had to build from scratch. For all that they had done, everything that they had sacrificed, Neroli would still call upon them and they would oblige hoping that, at some moment in time, they would go home and be freed. Those calls had been coming in short supply and though both of them held out hope, that was sometimes the only thing they had left. "Connor, let's take a walk on the beach before it's too late."

Sighing, he sat up in bed and stretched his weary back muscles. Sleeping on a bed made out of bamboo, palm leaves and old linens stuffed with cotton was taking its toll. "Fine, maybe we can find some fish."

Ella made a face, she detested fish. In fact, she hated seafood altogether – no shrimp, lobster, crayfish and certainly not the varying species of marine life that Connor seemed so pleased in catching. It was almost as if he were satisfying that basic, male, testosterone driven need to hunt. "I still don't understand why they don't bring us _real_ food more often."

Connor shrugged. "They probably save it for their soldiers. . .I think we've officially become expendable." He cast an eye towards the makeshift calendar and frowned. The last time the group had needed their services was a good three months ago. "They haven't dropped food or clothing for the last. . ."

"Forty-five days. .. I know." She frowned. "Well, no sense on thinking about things we can't control. . .Let's head off, shall we?"

The pair started their usual trek which began on a ramped walkway which was built as a means to keep the creatures and the water out of their home which sat a good three free above the ground on large wooden pilings. It had taken them all of one and a half months to build the home to the specifications which they'd outlined on a large stone using makeshift charcoal from burning twigs. Often the rain would wash away the plans and a certain section would have to be started from scratch. They began with a 'bedroom' of sorts, using both palm and banana leaves to protect them from the elements. Neroli's highest ranking 'asshole', as Connor had deemed him, was so amused with the pair that he'd sent a contingency of four men to 'assist.' All the men would do was take photographs and mock the couple as they fought both the elements and each other in their task. At the very least, they'd brought food, clothing and netting which would be used to keep the bugs away. Of course, there was an ulterior motive to that too, the last thing the group needed was for the pair to suffer an insect borne illness and die.

The sun had begun its ascension just a few hours earlier and it was clear, by the dark gray clouds on the horizon, that it wouldn't be too long before its rays were smothered completely. "Hey! A crab." Using a spear which was made out of bamboo and a sharpened, pointy rock, Connor headed towards the creature, stabbing it with a pin point accuracy. He was never much for weaponry of any kind, but two years in a place like this brought out the 'savage' in him. "Look, Ella, lunch!" He beamed proudly, chuckling as his wife shook her head.

"My stomach is groaning in anticipation. . .Nice shot, by the way." She grinned, then set off in the opposite direction, leaving Connor with his new 'find.' She was always hopeful that something would happen soon, that, one day, she would look up and find some sort of massive vessel waiting to rescue them. Today, she wouldn't be too disappointed as it wasn't too long until she found something gray at the edge of the water twenty feet away. "Connor! Come quickly!"

Dropping 'lunch,' Connor ran to his wife's side. "Ella?" He approached the area where she was pointing at and quickly turned around. "Don't move, I'm getting the spear." He removed the crab from the spear and quickly sprinted back to his wife who had, indeed, moved and was using her feet to poke and turn over the body. "Ella! I thought I told you not to. . ."

"He's an American Pilot." She stated, finding the patch on a gray jumpsuit. The man was handsome, she could tell, despite the sand covering his face. Trailing her eyes towards the pilot's sternum, she found a name. "Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. . .US Navy." Ella turned to her husband, her face going white – it was as if she'd seen a ghost.

Connor shook his head, knowing what this meant. "It's not our fault, Ella."

"The hell it is. . .Oh God!" The man at their feet groaned loudly, then turned to the side and retched the seawater from his lungs. "He's alive." Immediately, she grabbed his shoulders, hauling him upwards and away from the water. "Help me!" She grunted out, giving her husband a hard look which he wouldn't dare defy. "He's got an injury on his leg, it's bleeding."

With a sigh, he gave in. "Fine, but if _they_ find out, we'll be on their chopping block." He pushed Ella away and managed to pull Harm into a fireman's carry. Thank God for his six foot one frame. "Go open the door." This was the first time he would actually hate having a ramped walkway. The slope, though not very steep, was one hell of a task for a malnourished man carrying the dead weight of one very tall aviator. "Cover the floor with something."

Ella ran in and came back out. "With what?"

"Anything!" He yelled back. "Find some of my clothing, we need to get him out of this wet flight suit and check for injuries." While he carried his burden, he could hear the man groaning either from pain or something else. Finally inside, he placed Harm's body on a sheet which Ella had placed next to their bed. "Did you have to put this by our bed?"

She shrugged. "Help me get the flight suit off." The next several minutes the pair worked in silence, slipping off the wet fabric and slipping Harm into dry clothing. Connor raised his head while Ella placed a rolled up towel underneath as some sort of pillow. "His pulse is good." She told him with a smile.

Connor nodded, then moved downwards to the pilot's leg. "It's not a shark bite. . .There looks to be some metal in there."

"Metal?" She took a peek at the wound, turning her head swiftly in hopes to fight off the sudden attack of nausea. "Shrapnel." Ella gulped, stood up and took various pieces of equipment which they had sneaked out of the base. Taking a pair of pliers, she handed them over to Connor and raised a brow skyward as he cringed. "Luv, you have the stronger stomach."

He snorted in disgust. "Says who?" With shaky hands he reached for the tool then settled his gaze on the six inch long, half inch deep gash on the lateral side of Harm's left calve muscle. "Poor man, the pain alone should be enough to knock him out." He frowned, took the pliers and clamped down on a piece of metal which was jutting out at an odd angle. "It doesn't look as if it is in too deep."

"Thank God." Ella said with her back turned away from the scene. At a large basin which they used as a bathtub, she was working on transferring water into a smaller basin. Taking a handful of lavender leaves, she rubbed them briskly then placed the healing herb into the basin, watching as the oils rose to the surface. She'd always heard of the healing and sedative properties of herbs. It was the one thing she'd remembered from her grandmother and her youth. Lavender was always applied to all sorts of wounds, burns, cuts, bruises. Its antiseptic properties worked just as well as chemically induced products.

Connor's yelp of victory signified the end of the gruesome task. He tossed the shrapnel to the side then took a good look at the gash. It was bleeding profusely. "I need to use something as a tourniquet. . ."

She handed him a belt and also a small, travel sized sewing kit. "The wound needs to be stitched up, don't you think?"

"I can't do that. . . you know I can't. . ." Taking the belt, he wrapped it around Harm's thigh and tightened it. "You try." He told her, glancing between his wife and the sewing kit in her hands.

Dejectedly she turned towards the small basin, removed the needle from the kit and dipped it in the water. "Fine. . ." Shakily, she sewed up the gash, pausing time after time to throw up the contents in her stomach. Her face had turned green and despite the discomfort, she'd manage a nearly perfect suture. With her teeth she bit off the left over thread. "Give me the water in the basin."

Gently, Connor placed the basin on the floor by Harm's body. "You did good, baby."

A piece of wet cloth was pulled out and used to clean off the blood and the wound itself. The smell of lavender wafted up from the water, clearing Ella's head and senses. Taking a few of the lavender leaves, she placed them right on the wound, then bound it up with a dry cloth. "That should do it." She said with a sigh. "Now we wait."

December 24, 2010  
0830 Local  
Room 3014  
Bethesda Naval Hospital  
Bethesda, Maryland

The sun had settled in a certain section of the sky which sent rays straight into Sarah MacKenzie's room. Though she'd hit her head when landing, a brain scan had shown that there wasn't any damage. The doctor, however, was concerned about the elevated blood pressure and decided to keep her over night. She'd been in and out since the accident, the doctors suggesting it was more due to stress than anything really serious.

General Gordon Cresswell sighed heavily, his hand resting against the doorframe. The doctors had recommended that Mac not be put into any type of stress for the next day or so. Undoubtedly, the news he had would counter their requests, but it was something he had to do and soon. Pausing for a moment, he removed his hand away and turned so his back was to the wall. "Damnit." Much like most lawyers, Cresswell was a man of facts and figures and not of supernatural occurrences that could not be validated. When Sturgis had outright suggested that Mac could 'sense' Harm being in danger he'd almost laughed. _"Commander, are you trying to feed me some bullshit line that Colonel MacKenzie has some mystical connection with Captain Rabb?" _

Sturgis had stared at him blankly, knowing that if he said 'yes' he'd be considered a mad man, saying 'no' would only bring upon more questions. True to a lawyer's modus operandi, he answered with a question. _"Sir, don't you believe that two people, if they really care for each other, can have a connection?. . .Like mothers who know when something has happened to their children?"_

He wouldn't accept it then, but Sturgis had been right. Damnit, he'd felt a connection a good twelve years ago when his wife was in a serious car accident. He knew the exact moment that it had happened. Still, his beliefs in the supernatural were usually shattered by facts and figures. And now, his skepticism was hitting him squarely in the chest. Logically, he _knew_ that Mac couldn't have possibly known the moment in which Harm's plane had gone down and yet, it was at that exact moment which she took a fall. Summoning courage, he turned and walked through the door to Mac's room. Quietly, he walked in hoping not to wake her, but finding a blank expression on her face as she stared out the window and directly into the sun. "Colonel?" No, that was too rough, too formal. "Mac?"

Realizing she was with her commanding officer, she tried to come to attention. "Sir."

"At ease, Mac. . .Just wanted to see how you. . .ah. . .how you were." He handed her a bouquet of flowers, smiling slightly when she instinctively smelled them. "The doctors say you are getting out of here later today."

"Something like that, yes. . .They can't find anything wrong with me. . .There isn't anything wrong with me." She said with conviction and yet, for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was that brought on the spell. Why did she fall? "What about the case, sir? Was it postponed?"

Cresswell shook his head. "No, the Judge wants it wrapped up pretty quickly with as least publicity as possible. . .Big Holidays tend to mask the publicity somewhat. . .I appointed Commander Turner as first chair and Tali Mayfield will be sitting second."

Mac smiled, this would be Mayfield's first real roll in the limelight. "Good choice, sir. . .She is a rising star." She noticed a severe change in the man's demeanor and despite the fact that he'd usually been kind with her, it was something else. It was almost. . .fatherly? "Sir? Is something wrong?"

_Yes._ Spotting the chair next to her bed, he settled into it, his face taking a hard look. How many times had he done this? Somehow, it was easier back then. That was probably because he wasn't as biased as he'd become as of late. Then again, how many people sat around Harm and Mac for a year waiting for each of them to realize what everyone already knew. And yes, he knew it, so did Admiral Chegwidden who'd written in a personal favor in hopes of keeping Harm and Mac together should they reach the same page. "Yes, something is wrong. . . I have to say. . .this is difficult." He moistened his lips, then glanced down at his hands. Shoot from the hip, that was always his motto, his way of life. Now, he had no choice, there was really no way to soften the blow. "Captain Rabb's. . .ah, Harm's plane went down yesterday. . .At the same time that you had the accident, from what I understand."

"W-w-ent down? Is he?"

"Captain Loftness contacted me yesterday night. . .He was trying to contact you in San Diego, but the office said you were here. . .Basically, he and his wingman were flying maneuvers and came upon two jets, unknown origin. . .MIG 25s I think he mentioned. . .They lost radio contact with the ship for quite some time. .Harm's wingman was hit, but thankfully both pilots were recovered. . .Harm and Skates, I think her name was. . .They managed to blow one of the planes out of the skies. The second plane made a wrong movement and the explosion from Harm's plane blew them up as well. . .At first they believed Harm was a goner, but last night they brought the plane up. . .Investigators will be looking at it for the next few days. So far, what was recovered signified that _he had_ ejected. . .They just can't find him. . .anywhere."

She felt sick. Physically, emotionally sick. Cresswell's retelling of the incident had hit her like a blow to the stomach and yet, she couldn't believe it. . .Not all of it. "He's _not_ gone, sir."

"They don't know for sure. . .When I last spoke to Captain Loftness, the SAR crews were still searching. .. The problem is that they can only go so far. . . Damnit. . .Things like this just aren't supposed to happen."

Mac frowned. "No, they aren't. . .Harm wasn't supposed to be there, period. . .He was training the squadron, sir. . . He was never supposed to be part of it!" That was it, the breaking point. She bowed her head and let the tears come. Heavy sobs escaped her body, shaking her from head to toe. He wasn't gone, not yet, but there were worst things than death. Visions of Harm being captured passed fleetingly through her mind. What would they do to him for the vast expanse of knowledge he had in military aircraft? And his knowledge of the CIA? Harm was stronger than most and still, at some point in time, even the strong came crashing down.

1635 Zulu  
Location Unknown

Connor, as usual, had been dead on about the rain. No sooner did they get the aviator cleaned up than the rain started pouring down on their home in heavy sheets. Frowning, he stared up at the thatched ceiling. "At least it's holding up." Throughout their time there, they'd gone through several methods of constructing roofing that was water proof. It never worked, eventually water would start to seep in. This time, he was pleased to note that their final idea was working quite well. It would probably have to be relayed if it rained this hard again, but for now, they were dry. He glanced out the window, unable to see more than fifteen feet away from the house. Sometimes it felt as if the wind was going to blow them away.

"I really wish he'd wake up." Ella pressed the back of her hand against Harm's forehead. "He's been burning up for the last hour." Grabbing a small bag, she pulled out a large prescription bottle and motioned at Connor. "We have to try to get some aspirin in him."

The man was all for helping someone in distress, but what if it made things worse for the stranger? "And what if he has an allergic reaction? All of this would be for naught. . ." Coming to his knees in front of his wife, he took her hands in his. "I know you want to help. . .I do too, but we have to be careful. . .For now, he needs to ride it out." Taking an old shirt, he stepped outside and dunked it in a large basin which was collecting rain water through a series of 'plumbing' they'd built with bamboo sticks. He brought the wet material inside and handed it to his wife. "Press this against the back of his neck. . .Maybe it will cool him down some."

Harm's body was shivering involuntarily. From time to time, he would moan indiscernible sentences and shift around almost violently. "He keeps dreaming about something frantic." She frowned. "I suppose he still thinks he's at sea." Pressing the wet cloth against his forehead seemed to calm the fury if just for a moment.

"Mac. . .Sarah." The words were whispered and hoarse, but there was no mistaking it when he'd repeated it. "Mac. . .Sarah."

The pair gathered around him, glancing in awe, as if he were a baby and those were his first words. "Maybe he wants us to call him Mack?" Connor suggested. "Mack? Wake up. . .wake up."

Eyes struggled open, the task itself seeming so difficult to do. Harm could hear people talking to him, urging him to open his eyes, but for the life of him, he didn't know why. _Stop talking!_ His mind yelled at the two. _Let me sleep!_ He felt something shake him and with a groan his eyes finally opened fully, focusing on a thatched palm roof before two people, a man and a woman, came into focus. Frightened, he tried to move away from them, but the pain on his leg was too much. "Who. . .are. . .you?" He questioned, punctuating each word because his throat was too sore to allow him to speak more.

Connor held his hands up in front of him, as sign of surrender. "We won't hurt you. . .My name is Connor Gerard, this is my wife Ella. . . Who we are is a story for another time, when you are feeling more up to it. . . Maybe you want to know where _you_ are?"

Harm glanced around the area, his eyes trying to focus amidst the burning sensation and the brain splitting headache. "Ye-yesss."

Ella sighed. "We're on an island. . .Uncharted, apparently. . .Exactly where, we aren't too keen on. But, we found you. . .You washed up on shore. . .Do you remember what happened?"

Shaking his head Harm stared down at the clothing that was just a bit too small on his muscular figure. "N-no."

"Nothing at all?" Connor urged. "I understand that the US Navy dissuades you from speaking of your duties, but surely you can tell us that your plane was shot down."

"Plane?" He stared at them strangely with the eyes of a man who was completely lost to himself. "Wh-what. . .plane?" Before they had a chance to answer, there was another question which burned with more importance than any other. "Who. . .who am. . .I?" The pair sitting in front of him didn't answer but merely sat with matching looks of despair. "Who. . .am. . .I?" He yelled, the action rasping his throat even more so.

Ella leaned forward an action that had Harm recoiling in fear. "I won't hurt you." He remained recoiled as she reached inside the shirt and pulled out a set of dogtags. "This is you. . .You're a Naval officer, apparently. A Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. . .Does this ring any bells?"

"No." He frowned. _Harmon?_ What kind of a name was that? "Har-mon?" He shook his head. "I don't. . .like. . .it."

"Would you like us to call you Mack?. . .You said that while you were. . .ah. . .sleeping?" Connor offered with a smile.

For a moment, Harm closed his eyes, willing the damned headache to stop. He felt like shit, literally. Bones, muscles, every origin and insertion in his body ached something awful. The room was also spinning, something that didn't stop even when he closed his eyes. Worse of all, he couldn't make head or tail of anything. Why couldn't he remember who he was? "Mac?" He questioned, opening his eyes just to close them again. Though overcast, the daylight was killing him. "Mac?" The name sounded somewhat familiar. It gave him a warm feeling inside, something that he couldn't define – something that he _liked._ "Yes. . .Mac."

Ella sighed in relief. "Good, Mack then. . .does that mean you are remembering things?"

Harm shook his head gently. "No. . .No-nothing."

"Perhaps you can tell me who Sarah is?" She probed, if he was calling out a woman's name, she must have been important to him. "A girlfriend? Wife? Your mum?"

_Sarah._ The name gave him the same effect that Mac did. He felt warm, comfortable, safe. Why was that? Closing his eyes again, he repeated the name. "Sarah." There was something about that name, something that was conjuring up an image of a woman he didn't know. Behind his eyes he saw her, a beautiful brunette with a killer smile and warm, chocolate brown eyes. "I. . .don't. . .know." He whispered with a frustrated sigh. Opening his eyes, he settled them on the woman. She looked nothing like Sarah, her skin was too fair and her eyes were green. "I. . .see. . .a woman. . .in. . .my mind." He managed to get out until a coughing fit erupted. He tried to get it under control and was blessed with some coconut water which Connor offered. "Thanks."

"Rest now, Mack. . .When you feel up to it, do you think you could describe that woman to me?" At Harm's nod she smiled. "Good. . .I can draw her for you. . .Maybe that will help your memory?"


	12. Bring Him Home

**Thanks for the reviews gang! Very much appreciated:) This part is sadish. . At least, Mac's monologue is. :sniffs:**

**Enjoy!  
Jackie**

**PART 12 – Bring Him Home**

December 24, 2010  
1945 Local  
Room 3014  
Bethesda Naval Hospital  
Bethesda, Maryland

The holidays tended to be one of the most medically challenging days for some hospitals. In Bethesda, Christmas eve always boasted a series of accidents that could have been avoided (Christmas lights, roofs and ladders) to the patches of personnel with food poisoning due to undercooked meats. Whatever occurred that day had kept Sarah MacKenzie prisoner to the system – they wouldn't let her out until the doctor said so. It took until nearly a quarter after six for him to actually bother making the rounds and cut her loose. It wasn't entirely a bad thing, the lack of something decent to watch on TV had allowed for time to think and sleep, two things that had put her in a complete sense of unease.

Harm was alive, her heart told her so – call it female intuition or a thing between soulmates, it didn't matter, she knew it. He was alive. The problem was that she couldn't find him. Oh, she had tried, for a good hour to clear her thoughts and search, but it didn't work. The hustle and bustle on her floor wouldn't allow her to concentrate and when she finally had a coordinate, the doctor had stepped in and broken the trance. It was like that little connection of theirs had suffered an outage that couldn't be patched up.

And where the hell was Sturgis! The case couldn't have taken _this _long. She was looking forward to head out of this personal hell hole and to the hotel. Unfortunately, the staff wouldn't let her hail a cab, someone needed to pick her up. Sturgis had volunteered.

This wasn't quite the Christmas she'd envisioned when Harm was helping trim their tree. Visions of her and him wrapped in warm blankets, lying under the Christmas tree, the soft glow of Christmas lights. Hot chocolate and that sexy Mrs. Clause negligee which she was sure he'd love. "Damnit." It was supposed to be different now that they'd 'let go.' They weren't supposed to spend time apart, at least not like this. Mac jumped off of the bed, walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass. It was snowing outside, something she thought she'd never see again. It wasn't surprising, she was in the military after all, moving around was what they did. San Diego was a whole different world from Washington, a welcomed world. There was something magical about California and despite her rare longing to return to Washington, her home was on the other coast now, so was the man that she loved, so was his family – their family.

Sighing, she pressed her palm against the window. "Can't you cut him a break?" She said out loud, speaking to a God she wasn't sure listened to her anymore. "Couldn't you destroy me instead of him?" Guilt was something that Mac wore almost like a badge, it was something that would sneak in even if she knew she wasn't responsible. And yet, there was a nagging feeling that though she had not set these wheels in motion personally, something close to her had.

Closing her eyes, she tried again to contact Harm, to find him in the chaotic world outside her window. Was he hurt? Was he cold, alone, hungry? She couldn't tell, but knew wholeheartedly that he was alive. That was something to take comfort in, something to hang on to, to hope on. "Damnit, why can't I find him?" Mac's forehead made contact with the window once, twice, three times before she noticed someone standing behind her. Spinning around, she instinctively came into a fighting stance easing off when she realized that the intruder was a friendly one. "Sturgis, you do _not_ walk up behind a Marine."

Sturgis had his hands up in surrender. The look on his face would have probably elicited a good laugh from the Marine, but not tonight. "I called your name three times, Mac. . ." Taking a deep breath he pointed at a small bag with her medication. "You ready to go, ma'am?" He grinned when she pinned that infamous Marine look on him, a look that intensified when he stepped aside to reveal a wheelchair. "Hey, if it were up to me I'd have them hook a rope to the window and let you repel down."

Frustrated, she pushed off of the window and slid into the chair. "This sucks."

"Doctor's orders, Colonel." He took a final look around the room making sure she hadn't left anything before wheeling her out. "I suppose the General came to talk to you." It was a statement not a question, he knew the answer to that. It was chit chat, simple talk, some way to start a conversation that neither of them wanted to have.

Mac sighed. "Yea, he did. . .Harm's not dead, Sturgis. . .I can feel it. . .I just. . ." She picked at an imaginary piece of lint on her uniform and shook her head. Why couldn't she _find_ him? "I can't. . .that thing I do. . did. . .it's not working."

Sturgis frowned, as much as he wanted to believe that she and Harm had a connection, sometimes it was just difficult. Still, as a friend, he wanted to urge her on, he had to for some reason. "Try again? You hit your head when you fell. . .Maybe you just need to rest a bit?"

That was as good an idea as any. "I guess. . .So, how did it go today?"

"Not too good." The change in conversation wasn't as welcomed as either of them hoped it would be. He continued onward with Mayfield who'd taken the redeye to arrive in time for the trial. While the two were very prepared for the case, the civilian prosecuting lawyer had driven a hard blow bringing up their client's past and some shady activities which they couldn't disprove. He relayed all of this information as she signed the paperwork which released her from her prison. "Basically, we're treading water right now." Sturgis said, trying to help Mac out of the wheelchair and getting nothing but a slap on his hands. "Sorry, ma'am."

Mac rolled her eyes again and headed towards his car mumbling something about chivalry and men. "Anyway, Commander, can we pull this out of a rabbit hat?" She waited for him to open the door and then stepped in grateful to sit down again. Though she didn't want help, her head was still giving her problems, something she hoped a hot bath and lots of aspirin and coffee would heal.

He held the car door open for a moment and glanced at her. "Not without you, Mac. No. . .Look, as much as I was good. . .I'm rusty now, you're not. . .I think you can take ten years off from being a lawyer and still be a force to be reckoned with. . .I know this. . .this thing with Harm. . .I know it's killing you."

"It's not _killing_ me." She defended weakly. It was killing her, thing is, she didn't know how much it would kill her if. . . Disbelieving Sturgis glared at her. Neither Harm nor Mac were opened books, but when emotions ran high, a little humanity broke through the cracks. "Alright. . .alright. . .I'm barely holding it together. . .I spent most of the day in tears and. . .I keep having images of. . ." Frowning, she glanced downwards then closed her eyes tightly, trying to prevent the fresh onslaught of tears. "What if. . ."

Sturgis squatted down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mac, you can't think like that. . .Harm's tough, he's strong. . .Damnit, he's the closest thing I've ever seen to Superman."

"Even Superman has weaknesses." The one thing she would do is try to contact the Henry in the morning. Somehow, hearing it from the General wasn't enough. She needed to speak to Loftness and definitely Keeter. If anyone would have real information, it was Keeter. "Look, I'll help as much as I can. . .There is no way in hell I am going to expose our client's jugular to that slime ball civilian lawyer. . .Not on my watch. . .But I need time."

He figured as much, which was why he thanked God for one slight Christmas miracle. "We have until Monday. . .The judge agreed to break for Christmas weekend. . .He stressed that this needed to be settled before the New Year, so if you have any rabbits to pull out. . .now's the time to find your rabbit hat."

Mac nodded. At least the situation would get her mind off of Harm, she needed that now. "Alright. . .Sturgis, before we head towards hotel, can you make one stop? It won't take long, I promise."

As they drove the familiar roads from Maryland into DC, she couldn't help but think of the countless times she and Harm had taken that trip. Christmas eve had always been special to them. The one time of the year when miracles seemed to happen and yet, this year, that miracle was taken away from them. This was to be their first Christmas together, something that was meaning the world to her the more the days passed. Harm had worked through his anger issues revolving the holiday and was truly seeming eager to celebrate with her. "If you don't mind. . .I want to be alone for a bit." Mac said once Sturgis had pulled his car to a stop on the parking lot adjacent to the Vietnam Memorial.

It felt like forever since she'd walked there, glancing at the names of our country's heroes. Mac had never realized until that moment in time that she knew, exactly, where Harm Senior's name was. It was as if something was leading her right to him. She stopped a few feet away from the wall and glanced up, her eyes immediately focusing on his name. There were few people around, the harsh weather scaring most away. With a sigh, she dared to speak out loud, uncaring if the few stragglers would hear her or not. "It's been a long time hasn't it?" She swallowed down the lump at her throat. "I'm sorry if this is disrespectful in any way, it's not my intention. . .But, while I'm here, I figure. . .There are a lot of things that I need to say. . .I hope. . .I pray that I have a right to be here and that you listen. . ."

Mac stepped a little closer and closed her eyes, the weight of the world was on her shoulders. It suddenly didn't seem crazy to speak to a piece of stone. "Your son is a difficult man to love, you know that? He's stubborn, he keeps me on my toes, infuriates me." She chuckled slightly. "But, I can't stop loving him. . .It's impossible. . .I guess you know why I am here. . .Um, I'm not sure how the whole _spiritual_ thing goes. Once you pass on, do you actually watch over us? Or is that something we on Earth hope on in order to make death more bearable?" She shifted slightly, the cold beginning to numb her just a bit, but it didn't matter, she had things to say.

"See, the thing is. . .if it's true or not, I still believe that you've been watching over Harm. . .and Trish and Sergie. . .I mean, you _have_ to be watching over him, right?" Mac hadn't realized the tears until she felt them fall onto her gloved hand. Desperately, she removed her glove and pressed her fingers onto the etched marble, her voice falling to just below a whisper. "I know. . .I know I don't have the right to ask you this. . .but, I need him to come back to me. . .I need him to come home safe and sound. . .I know I don't have the right to ask you this. You were shot down, taken away from your family, held prisoner for so many years. . .I know of the conflicting feelings and emotions you went through, of the desires you gave in to out of desperation. . . I know what your wife went through, spending so many years alone with a son who was a spitting image of his father. I can't imagine what it must have done to her. . .what it still does to her."

She sighed nervously, almost as if she were revealing something that no one knew. "I think you're still in Trish' heart, sir. . .I know she's with Frank and she's in love. . .they have a beautiful relationship. . .I know you would want that for her. . .But, I think she still loves you and she always will." Mac gently brushed away the tears and wiped her hand on her coat before pressing it back to the wall. "I need Harm in my life – I can't live without him. . .I know that sounds cliché and overdramatic and stupid. . .especially coming from a woman who had once said she never wanted to be with him. . .I lied then. . .I needed him. ..No, I _need_ him more than the air that I breathe. . .Things with Harm will be difficult, we have a tendency to butt heads at times. But, I want to fight for him. I need to because he's the only reason I've been living all of these years. He's the reason why I haven't had a drink in ten years. . .He's made me the strong lawyer I am today."

"He's the reason I can love unconditionally. . .I've never felt like this about anyone and I know for certain that I never will again." Mac remained silent for a moment and glanced up at the heavens to the sheet of snow that had begun to fall again. It was coming down harder now and despite the cold, she remained there, there were more things she needed to say. Things she needed him to understand. "Please bring him back. . .I don't want to know what it's like to live without him. . .I already suffered through that pain for. . .eternity, at least it seemed that way. . .I spent the last seven horrible years making myself believe that he didn't matter. That I didn't need him. . . I was lying to myself because he does matter and I do need him. . . I know I don't have the right to ask you this. .You've given up so much already. I believe you saved us that day in the Appalachians and every time your son's had a mishap with a plane. . . I know he's not dead now I just. . .can't find him."

That brought up another thought which was more frightening than Harm's death. "I have an idea of what you went through. . .In Russia. . .Please, don't let him go through that. . .I'd rather he die quickly than have to be locked away somewhere. .. Or worse. . .Tortured." One thing was true to her, if Harm would have been the one getting tortured in Paraguay and not Webb, she would have talked. She would have told Sadik everything he needed to know if it meant stopping Harm's pain. "Please don't hate me for coming here after so many years of absence. . .I just couldn't handle being that close to him again. . .Damnit, I love him. . .I love him so much that it's breaking my heart." Mac's head came down, her palm remained against the marble as the tears turned into sobs which she couldn't control.

She felt a hand at her shoulder and instinctively knew that Sturgis was there to help. "C'mon, Mac. . .Let's get you to the hotel." He turned her away from the wall and then stood there a few moments himself. "Bring him home." Sturgis snapped to attention and saluted before turning on his heel and heading back to the lot.

December 25, 2010  
1623 Zulu  
Location Unknown

Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, none of those days passed without some sort of gift giving between the Gerard's. They weren't fancy and, most of the time, the gifts were completely impractical and useless, but in a land where the local mall was probably thousands of miles away, it was the thought that counted. Connor had spent most of the morning finishing the perfect 'gift' for his wife. The rain from the days prior had disallowed him to complete the project earlier. He'd found three dozen or so tumbled rocks by a freshwater river. Stealing a nail from the hardware facilities over on the base had been ludicrous, Ella had been angry at him for days about it. The item did come in handy for so much – including the stones which he was trying to make a hole in. Using a rock, he would hammer the nail in just enough to work on making the hole without breaking the rock. It had taken several tries before he got the workmanship just right. Then, using an elastic from his jacket he made her a necklace and bracelet. It wasn't much, but it was sort of. . .pretty?

Grinning, he looked at his masterpiece, finally satisfied in the location of the rocks. He ran it over his shirt, giving them a quick buff before heading inside. "Hon?" He called out to his wife, finding her sitting at their dinning table (three wood pilings, the one in the center being the largest) with their new friend. "Morning, Mack, how are you feeling?"

The stranger was quite the odd one, though, how normal could someone be when they didn't remember anything about their lives? He'd spent the previous day in and out of consciousness, the fever raging within until they'd managed to give him aspirin, some rain water and a few bananas. Thankfully, he'd managed to keep them all down. The nighttime was the worst. Connor could hear the man thrashing around gripped in some sort of nightmare. The word 'Sarah' had come up once again and he couldn't help but wonder about the woman who 'Mack' thought about so much.

Harm glanced up at Connor and then looked away. He didn't know these people and despite their hospitality, there was a nagging feeling that he was in danger. At the moment, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it but he was going to wait and see. Maybe he would snap out of this haze? "Feeling a bit better, thank you." His eyes shifted back to Ella's fingers which were drawing frantically on a sketch pad with a pencil. That morning he'd asked them about the situation, the answer both frightened and intrigued him. How could two people live like this for two years? They'd told him about their lives in Ireland, the world they left to pursue a mutual dream in avionics. That dream had led them to a major project in Sweden and, subsequently, into the arms of Neroli. "If you're prisoners here, how come you have certain. .. things? That sketchpad for instance."

Ella glanced up from her work and chuckled. "From time to time we would snatch things out of our working area. . .Sometimes the group was nice enough to leave us with things."

"Apparently not nice enough to leave us some electricity." Connor lamented, taking a seat on the floor next to his wife. "Nothing coming back to mind then, Mack?"

"I. . .No." Frowning, he glanced out the window and then back at the sketch pad which Ella was holding. "I wish I would remember _something_, but it's all a blur. . .except for that woman and for that matter, I don't know who she is." He crossed his arms in front of him and waited, expectantly, for Ella to finish. While Connor had been gone, she was asking him questions about that Sarah person and he'd described her as best possible.

Once she was done, Ella blew on the pad to remove eraser shavings and then showed it to her husband first. "I still have the touch." She leaned in and kissed him, then turned the sketch over to Harm. "Is that what she looks like?"

Momentarily, his breath caught. His heart began to beat with a heavier percussion. It was Sarah. "That's her. . .That's. . ." He chewed on his lower lip hoping to deter the tears that were starting to form. Damnit, why was he crying? Had that woman hurt him? Is that why he couldn't get her out of his mind? "It's beautiful, thank you."

Carefully, Ella ripped off the sheet and handed it to him. "Consider it a Christmas present, excuse me." Standing, she went over to their bed, pulling out something from under the pillow. "Speaking of Christmas presents." She slipped a bundle into Connor's hands and smiled. "Happy Christmas, my love."

Like a child at Christmas time, Connor opened up the cloth and took a look inside. "I love them." He said with enthusiasm, staring a new set of rocks which had been shaped and smoothed to use on his spear. "Close your eyes." He waited for her to comply and then slipped the bracelet onto her arm. "Ah, ah. . .no peaking, I'm not done yet. . ."

With curiosity, Harm watched the scene in front of him. Part of him found it nauseating, the other part found it cute. There was another part of him though that felt insanely jealous that they had someone and he was. . .well, alone. The couple kissed after the exchange. . .and then they kissed some more. Grabbing a piece of bamboo to use as a crutch, he excused himself and stepped outside, taking a seat on the raised floor. In the distance he could hear the rolling thunder, another storm was on the way, he could smell it. The thought alone made the hairs stand up on the back of his head. He lifted the sketch that Ella made and took a good look at it. _Those lips._ He thought, wondering what it would feel like to kiss and be kissed by this woman. This, so called, Sarah. A quick thought came to mind. . .No, not a thought, something more like a. . .daydream. Sarah was looking at him, eyes brilliantly beautiful and yet, so sad. Her hair was a slight bit shorter than in the drawing. Her lips had a dark shade of red and she was standing next to a man with dark hair and a blond woman. A smile which was tugging at her lips vanished as she looked at him and then, just as quickly turned to the other man giving him an affectionate smile. Harm frowned. Did that mean he was involved with a woman who was involved with someone else?

"Why do I care?" He lamented with a sigh. "I don't know who she is. . .I don't know who _I_ am." For all of the raw beauty of the island and the warmth that the couple inside had shown him, Harm wanted to be _home_. "Wherever that is." Carefully, he folded the sketch and slipped it into the pocket of his pants. Lightening was crashing in the horizon, falling onto the water. The view made him catch his breath slightly. Had he ever seen this before? Was there water wherever he came from? What about the ocean, why was he so drawn to it? Something about the location made him want to sail – if he even knew how to do that. He envisioned himself on a white sailboat cruising past tall, jagged cliffs.

Reaching inside of the shirt, he took out the dog tags and stared intently at them. "Harmon Rabb Junior?" The name just didn't strike him, not at all. "That can't be me. . .It's so. . .odd." Maybe there was something to that Mack name which the Gerard's were calling him. He liked that name, it had to be his. "Mack. . .Yea, that works." He wondered if it was short for something, maybe a middle name or a hyphenated name of sorts? Whatever it was, he liked it; it worked. Smiling for the first time since he'd woken up, Harm glanced out onto the horizon feeling that he, at least, got something of his back. Pretending someone was sitting before him, he extended his hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Mack uh. . ." Okay, well, that posted a problem. What would his last name be? He scratched his head in thought. "Rabb doesn't sound _too_ bad." He thought aloud. Mack Rabb? Harm frowned. "That's almost as bad as Harmon is. . ." With a shrug, he stuck his hand out again to greet his imaginary visitor. "Mack Rabb." Alright, so it wasn't _that_ bad, he could live with it for now. He had to.

"There you are." Connor's voice startled him. "You really shouldn't be out here. . .I mean, though they don't check on us anymore. . ."

Ella's voice chimed in behind her husband. "It's true, Mack. . .Besides, storm's (instead of "storms") coming. . .again."

Harm knew they were right, as much as he wanted to be outside a while longer, they didn't know who was watching. Not that death would be so bad at the moment. He wasn't sure what was worse, dying or continuing this loss of function. He sighed deeply, then turned away from his hosts. The waves were crashing a little rougher now, destroying some of the sand. Something about that act of nature made it feel as if he were the sand being washed away. He couldn't help but think of other things. Did he have a family? A mother? A father? A sister? A brother?

A wife? Glancing down at his ring finger he found nothing that would suggest he was married. Usually those who sported rings would have a tan line around the area when it was vacant for whatever reason. No wife. Was there anyone back home (wherever that was) missing him? "Let me just sit out here a little while longer. . .I'm. . .trying to. . .trying to remember who I am." The notion sounded silly to himself. He was thankful when the pair agreed and left him to his thoughts.

They had said something about him captaining a plane, but that was absurd! He _didn't_ like planes, at all. Did he? Somehow the idea of being stuck in a tiny cockpit just didn't sit well with him. And what about the maneuvers that some of those military pilots did? The thoughts gave him vertigo. And yet, he'd seen the dog tags, he was definitely military. . .assuming those tags _were_ his. There were other questions of course, like those of the scars on his body, mainly his back. Connor had mentioned that while they put him in dry clothes the scars had frightened them both. They weren't completely hideous but it covered the expanse of his back. It was obvious that the lashes were done by someone with a malevolent intent. No accident could have brought them up with such a calculating 'swooshing' movement. Without a mirror he wouldn't be certain what they were referring to and the thought scared him.

What kind of a man was he that someone had felt the need to hurt him in such a way? That brought up a whole other slew of thoughts. What if he was bad? Evil incarnate? What if this Sarah was a victim? Harm swallowed down the bile at those thoughts. No, he wasn't bad, he knew he wasn't. Or was he? It wasn't until he felt the raindrops pelting him that he abandoned his search and slipped back into the house. Connor and Ella were lying in their bed, cuddled together. Quietly, he stepped inside and slipped into the area of the floor that had been deemed his bed. Maybe sleep would do him good? Maybe he would remember?

From his vantage point he could see out the window, past the trees and to a patch of sky where the sun was trying to fight through. Once again, he couldn't help but wonder if someone was missing him at the moment. If he mattered to anyone.

1220 Local  
Suite 225  
Fairview Park Marriott  
Falls Church, Virginia

There was something good about working a high profile case, the Navy tended to spring a bit more for the players to be comfortable, but not _this_ comfortable. Before, Mac really hadn't had a chance to look around her surroundings, she was a bit too busy with other things and last night. . .well, last night the only thing she was capable of was sleeping and crying. Her puffy eyes this morning were a testament to that. Now, in the light of day, she realized that someone was taking great care in her comfort. This wasn't a regular guest room but a suite with French doors that separated the living room and bedroom area. The décor she could do without, animal prints, even though toned down, weren't in her personal tastes, neither were the four fake plants in the living space. If she were going to put a few plants up, they had to be real. Floral was another thing that she didn't like and this was everywhere, from chairs to bedspread.

Sighing, Mac stepped into the bathroom, running the shower as hot as it could go without causing any type of degree burns. She welcomed the feel over her body and aching muscles. Despite the comfort of the bed, she hadn't slept more than two hours at a time. The nagging feeling that she _could_ do something was killing her. Helplessness never sat well with her, it was that which broke her down years ago when he'd dumped a Tomcat the night before her wedding. Mac closed her eyes and braced her hands against the shower walls. Damnit, from the moment the General had slapped her with the news, she couldn't help but think of that rainy night in May of 2001. Harm was found then, hours later and in bad shape, but he was found. She found him. Why couldn't she do that now?

Back then, things were different. Yes, there was _some_ closeness between them, but those strings were being cut with every passing second that brought her closer to unhappy matrimony. Now. . .They were closer than ever, so much so that spending time away from each other _hurt. _God, how many times had she read stupid things like lovers feeling physical pain when away from one another? How many times had she found amusement at seeing people so out of sorts when their loved ones were away. She understood that it was a possibility. If that was the case, then why the hell couldn't she find him? Did that whack on the head have something to do with it or was their link severed because. . . "No!" She said out loud, startling herself. "Harm's not dead. . .He's not."

The link she wanted may not have been present, but she could tell, wholeheartedly, that he was still walking this Earth, somewhere. There was just something wrong, off kilter, something that she needed to figure out and fast. She turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and dawned on a fluffy terrycloth robe. Using another towel, she wrapped up her hair and thanked the stars for the miraculous wonders of heaters. Taking a mug and the carafe from the service tray, Mac poured herself some coffee, then wandered towards the window. The day was awful, cloudy and dreary. It matched her feelings at the moment. _"We're still under the same sky though. . .Under the same stars." _She heard her own voice repeating the words she'd told him the last time they spoke.

There was truth to that – Harm was still under the same sky. Wherever he was. _"I guess we're in for a lot of empty nights, huh?_" His voice had said back to her only she didn't really think they would be _this_ empty.

Frowning, she placed the mug on the windowsill and pressed a palm to the window. "Oh, Harm." As an adult, the feelings were enough to consume her. She couldn't possibly imagine what they had done to a child. . .She knew, somewhat, what it had done to him and how he was paying for life. "Is this what you felt when you were waiting for your father to come home?"

Mac wiped off a stubborn tear, took her mug and stepped away from the window. She couldn't keep doing this, it was like self torture. With a heavy sigh, she sat on the sofa, then took the Wolf case files. The words became a jumbled mess much like she was. How the hell was she supposed to pull rabbits out of her hat when she felt like this? The ringing of the phone startled her. "MacKenzie." She spoke gruffly into the line.

(_"Mac?. . .What happened?"_ It was Harriet. _"Mac? Are you. . .How are you?")_

Sighing deeply, she clutched the phone as if it were her salvation. "Not good, Harriet. . .I guess you heard?"

(Harriet's slightly cracking voice was a testament to her answer. _"Yes, we heard. . .Commander Mayfield called the office. . .I'm. . .I'm so sorry, Mac. . .What have you heard? Anything new?_")

"Not as of yet. . .I can't get into details much, but as far as Cresswell told me. . .he ejected, they just can't. . .find him."

(_"Ejected? That's good, at least. . .Someone could have picked him up."_ Harriet was trying to remain positive. The Captain was always like a sort of superhero and those types were reluctant to go down without a fight. _"Do you. .. should I tell anyone at the office?. . .Jen's here." _She passed the phone to Coates and nodded for her to talk. _"Ma'am. . .How are you?"_ From the sound of her voice, she wasn't doing too well either.)

Mac frowned, Harm had touched Jennifer's life deeply, helping out a young woman in trouble who he really didn't have to help out much. As a result they'd seen her blossom before their very eyes. Despite their ranks and age differences, Harriet and Jen were two of the best friends a girl could have. "I'm hanging in there, Jen. . .Listen, if you get in touch with Mattie. . .Don't. . .don't tell her about this. . .She's on vacation and the last thing I want is for her to worry."

(Jen agreed, _"I was thinking the same thing. . .Though, she'll probably be pretty angry with us."_)

"I know, but. . .Harm would want this. . .Look, I have to go. . .someone's at the door." She said heaving another sigh. "I'll call if I know more." After exchanging quick goodbyes, she practically bolted towards the door finding one Sturgis Turner on the other side. "What are you doing here so early?"

He flashed her a grin. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Colonel. . .And it's pass noon, by the way." Sturgis stepped in as Mac pulled the door back from him. "Yup, someone's definitely trying to toy with you." He waved his arm around the room before him. "This isn't cheap."

Mac rolled her eyes in indignation. "Yea, tell me about it. . ." The second knock on her door caught her by surprise. "Tali." She nodded at the younger woman on the other side. Mayfield didn't really have the chance to interact with Harm much, but she knew what the man meant to Mac.

"Ma'am. . .I'm so sorry."

Managing to wave off any other consolatory remarks, Mac stepped back and headed into the bedroom. "I'm going to change. . ." Quickly, she closed the French doors behind her, successfully closing her off from the pair in the other room. She leaned against the doors and swallowed down the lump at her throat. "You can do this, MacKenzie." Quietly, she whispered. Even if she couldn't do this, it was her job, something that had to get done.

Walking to the window, she couldn't help but look out once again. "We're under the same sky." Closing her eyes, she offered up a silent prayer hoping it would give him the protection he needed to endure whatever was going on in his life at the moment. "Bring him home."


	13. Man Overboard

**Lucky number 13! Hope you doods are still digging it! The purpose to some of these parts is because, Mac has a job to do whether or not Harm is missing. Doesn't mean that she won't, eventually, wind up on the Henry too. ;)**

**  
Jackie**

**PART 13 – Man Overboard**

December 27, 2010  
1310 Local  
JAG Headquarters  
Falls Church, Virginia

"Objection, your honor, hearsay!" Civilian Attorney Charles Embry was rubbing on Mac's last nerve. It was a little more than obvious that the man wasn't capable handling Military Law. Fortunately for him, the judge didn't really seem to care. If ever there was a judge with bias, Admiral Marion Kilpatrick was it.

Kilpatrick glared over at Mac, his eyes seemingly trying to bore holes through her. "Sustained. . .Colonel, I am sure those tactics work with the laid back Judges in San Diego, but we are in Washington, things work a little differently on _this _coast."

Part of her was dying to point out that _this_ was actually _Virginia_, but, somehow, that seemed like the wrong thing to tell a one star with a bug up his six. "Of course, your honor, my apologies." She turned away from the bench and rolled her eyes. This sucked. Forget rabbit hats. What she needed was a shot gun, a shovel and Charles Embry, preferably alive. Slowly, she turned on her heel, laying her gaze on one Second Lieutenant Mark Ayers, one of Kent Wolf's closer friends. "Would you, personally, say that Lieutenant Wolf is a good guy?"

Ayers smiled. "Oh yes, Ma'am. . .He's a straight arrow. . . Being a Marine is all he ever wanted. . .He wouldn't have done something stupid like that. . .especially to a senior officer."

Mac smiled. "Nothing further your honor."

"Redirect?" Embry stood up, practically running right into Mac as he made his way around the table. "Pardon me, Colonel." The look in his eyes screamed 'date rapist.' At least, it did to Mac who scowled the moment his hand came out to steady her. "Mark. . ." He began, then paused. "May I call you Mark?"

"No, sir. . .I prefer it if you call me Lieutenant." Ayers said. He was never the type to allow just anyone to get too chummy with him. This was the military and he had earned his stripes fair and square.

Embry wasn't amused. "You said in your statement that Mr. Wolf was acting, and I quote, 'out of sorts' that evening. Isn't that so?"

"Lieutenant Wolf was under a lot of stress that week, sir."

"That's not what I asked. . .Did you or did you not _specifically_ say that he was acting _out of sorts_?"

Ayers glanced towards Mac who nodded at him.

"Look at me, not the pretty Colonel, Lieutenant."

This time, it was Sturgis who stood up. "Your honor!" He was exasperated with Embry's treatment of Mac. Out of the court, it had been at least twice in which he'd said a few derogatory comments about 'skirts in the military.' "Mr. Embry is not only starting to badger our witness, his comments towards the Colonel are disrespectful."

"Sustained." Kilpatrick leveled the civilian with a look that could kill. "Mr. Embry, whatever you like or dislike about the military, remember that these are the people that keep those like you alive. . .Please refrain from comments such as those or I will file a mistrial and make sure that ALL charges are dropped. . .Now, continue, I would like to wrap this up _before_ the New Year."

Embry flushed bright red with anger. These military types he would never understand, he hated military cases and only took it because of the PR and the money. Oh boy, did Daddy Timms offer money. Grinning he turned towards Ayers. "Lieutenant, back to our questioning. . .In your opinion, why was Lieutenant Wolf 'out of sorts' as you put it?"

"Well. . .There are a lot of things going on back at the base. . .A few people don't like him because his mother is. . .well, you know who she is. . .He gets picked on a lot for that. People say that he got where he got because of his mother, but that isn't true. Kent got where he is fair and square. . .he worked for Marines, he worked his butt off."

"Fair enough. . .But, there's something you're leaving out, isn't there?" Walking towards the table, he pulled out a manila folder from his briefcase and opened it up. "You trained together, went to OCS together, is that right?"

Ayers nodded. "Yes, sir. . .And we're stationed together now."

"So, you're close?"

The younger man suddenly raised his hands up in surrender. "Not _that_ close. . . Like, we aren't a twosome or anything." That comment brought out laughter from those sitting in the courtroom. The judge sounded the gavel twice and all was silent again. "I guess you can say we're like brothers."

"As a brother. . .He would tell you things. . .secrets?"

Mayfield stood up promptly. "Objection, your honor. . .What does this line of questioning have to do with the alleged attack on Major Timms?"

Embry turned towards the judge. "I'm getting there your honor, just allow me a couple of minutes."

"Get their quickly. . .This is like pulling teeth."

"Amen to that." Mac said under her breath, rolling her eyes in disgust.

The civilian slowly walked towards Ayers, hands still on the folder. "Did he tell you about a night, three years ago. . .I believe you were off that night, both of you. . .There was a bar – the Chinese Dragon and a fifteen year old girl? A dancer named Jin Lei Xu?"

Ayers shook his head. "I recall going to the bar, yes. . .But, not the dancer."

Embry raised the folder up in the air. "Here's a statement made by Jin Lei. She was fifteen the night this." He pointed at Kent Wolf, his voice condescending and spiteful. "so called '_perfect' _Marine raped her."

"Objection your honor, we've never even heard about this incident. . ." Mac was astounded, talk about something she didn't see coming. It had to be bogus, she and Sturgis had done a thorough job of making sure Wolf's records were spotless.

Kilpatrick shook his head. So much for things moving along swiftly. "Side bar." He covered the microphone with one hand and waited patiently for Mac's team and Embry to assemble in front of the bench. "Mr. Embry, I am well aware of the tricks lawyers play on their opposing sides. . .I abhor them. This case has already stained the names of two Marines. . ."

"Sir, that information was to show that Mr. Wolf is of poor character and should. . ."

Apparently, all of Kilpatrick's bias was slipping rather quickly. "Second Lieutenant Wolf." He emphasized not being one to take away from a person's rank. He was fair that way. "Colonel, I suppose you want a recess to look over the information."

Wow, he was a mind reader too? "Yes, your honor, and we don't need a long one. . .I would just like to speak to the alleged victim." She was sure Embry's smug smile meant only one thing. "You can't find her, can you Mr. Embry?"

"Oh, I can. . .but, she's not talking to anyone but us. . .She won't speak to you."

"Be assured that I _can_ and _will_ subpoena that woman."

Embry shrugged. "You can, yes. . .But that will take some time and Judge Kilpatrick has made it abundantly clear that this case is to wrap up before the New Year. . .Your honor, I realize the Colonel has her client to protect, but I gave an oath to find the truth and protect _my_ own clients. . ."

The judge seemed to be thinking things over. He was being severely pressured to wrap things up quickly and nicely. Some things never worked out that way. Sighing he glanced towards Mac. "Colonel, I am giving you until tomorrow. . .Do what you have to do." He slammed down the gavel. "Recess until tomorrow o-nine-hundred."

Sturgis shook his head, this wasn't good. Then again, he and Mac had a talent for making people talk. "I guess we're heading to China town, Colonel?"

"You guess right. . .Tali, as soon as we get a copy of the file from Embry, find someone in the bullpen to look for Jin Lei Xu. . .Sturgis, go talk to Wolf, see what his take on this is. . .I'll be in my office."

"Aye, ma'am." They said in unison, each heading off in separate directions.

Ironically, the 'office' Mac was issued is the same one Harm had been banished to after his stint in the CIA. She grinned sappily. He seemed so awkward in this place, almost as if his body was cramped up and forced inside. And that smell. . .God, the worst thing ever was the smell of something that happened to have died in the wall at some point. "Poor guy."

With a sigh she slid into the chair, picked up the phone and attempted a shore to ship call. Surprisingly, Mac was patched through almost immediately to Captain Loftness. "Skipper. . .Anything?"

(The connection was terrible, it sounded as if the ship was on another planet. _"No, Colonel. . .I've been authorized to check again today but I am not sure we can continue sending the SAR crew out."_ )

Those were the words she didn't want to hear. Realistically she knew they could not search forever but. . .damnit, if she could only _do_ something. "I was afraid you'd say something like that, Skipper."

_("To be honest, it's not looking good.")_

Mac sighed deeply as she willed herself not to cry. _He's not dead. I know he's not._ It really didn't matter what she thought if no one believed her. "Is it possible to be patched through to the CAG?"

(_"Yes, just give us a moment." _She waited patiently for Keeter to pick up the line, her stomach seemingly tightening in knots. He was the one person she trusted the most on behalf of Harm. If something had happened, he would tell her, she knew it. He had to. _"Mac?"_)

"Hey, Jack." Her greeting sounded just as tired and emotionless as his own. This was clearly a conversation he didn't want to have. "Shoot from the hip. . .What happened?"

(There were things he couldn't say for security reasons and Keeter knew she'd understand, but other things. . .Christ, how could he tell her his belief? That his friend was gone for good. _"We have Skates, she's conscious and talking. . .I can't say too much but. . .They were shot at, the plane started going down. . .She went through all of the ejection procedures and her seat worked perfectly. . .When she was parachuting down she realized Harm hadn't ejected. . .The plane exploded. . .She never saw the chute." _He swallowed down the lump at his throat. _"We found the fuselage semi-intact. . .It showed that the seat HAD ejected, thing is. . .We can't find him. . .He could be out in the ocean or. . .")_

"Don't say it. . .He's not dead." Mac was so sure of it she was willing to bet her life on it. "I can feel that he's not. . . It's hard to explain."

(Feelings weren't something that Keeter would rely on. He was a facts and guts type of guy and his gut told him that his friend was gone _"Look, I know you. . .supposedly. . .uh, found him once. . .Can you find him now?")_

Mac pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment as if it were an offending object. It was odd finding someone who actually believed her, especially Jack Keeter. "I've tried. . .It's. . .Maybe I have to try harder?" She thought about calling Chloe, but the girl was vacationing in Europe with her father and step mother.

(_"If that makes you feel better, then give it a try. . .Look, I loved the man like a brother. . .Sometimes it's better to let go. . .I mean, it may come to that.")_

"I don't think I can, Jack." Letting go. It wasn't as easy as people wanted it to be. "Jack, I have to go. . .Huge case over here. . .If I can think of something, I'll contact you." She hung up the phone as Mayfield approached her. "Yes, Commander?"

Tali entered the office and placed the file on Mac's desk. "Petty Officer Delgado found her, ma'am. . .She's working in a strip club on K street called Little Pink Kitty Kat."

Mac raised a brow as she went over the information which was sprawled on a sheet of paper. "She's a stripper?"

"Yes, ma'am. . .Stage name Xu Mi (pronounced: Chew Me)."

She chuckled, her head shaking in amusement. "How appropriate. . .Embry is going to have a little trouble making this stick. . ."

Mayfield shrugged. "Well ma'am, unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time that someone from the military got a little rough with a dancer."

She knew Mayfield was right. "And it won't be the last time either. . .We'll wait and see what Sturgis says. . .The Club, I suspect, won't open until later today. . .I want to pay her a visit."

"Are we going in uniforms, ma'am?"

It was probably better to go in uniform, but that tended to spook the wrong people and tip off the right ones. "No. . .civilian attire. .. I don't want her to see us coming."

1845 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

As Loftness was stepping out of the bridge, he nearly collided with one Lieutenant Commander Vukovic. Annoyed, he glared at the younger officer who seemed to be everywhere he wasn't needed as of late. "Vukovic, why is it that every time I open a hatch you seem to be right behind it?"

Out of habit, Vic snapped to attention. "My apologies, skipper. . .It's just that Colonel MacKenzie is a friend of mine. . I want to know if any progress has been made in respects to Captain Rabb."

"Friend of yours, huh?" Oh yeah, and the sky was green. "Not much has been reported, Commander. . .SAR crews have been busy out there." He turned to look out towards the bow. "It's not looking good."

_Yes!_ Vic wanted to celebrate, to jump up and down, dance, something. Instead, he found himself biting the inside of his cheek in hopes that he would not smile. This was a victory. "You have no hopes in finding him, do you skipper?"

"It's not impossible. . .There have been some rather. .. heroic rescues." But, the terms were different. Hell, if Harm _was_ out there, it may not even matter. There was only so far the SAR crews were allowed to fly "But, it's not looking favorable." Turning back to Vic, he automatically scowled. Something on the man's face made the Skipper aware that things just weren't as they would seem. "Why do I feel that you _want_ this to happen?"

"Me, sir?. . .That's ludicrous. . .I mean, I know that the Captain, Colonel and I have had our difference, but they are my friends, sir. . .I worked with them. . .We share a bond." God, that sounded so good he almost puked. The last thing Vukovic wanted was to _bond_ with Harm. Mac, on the other hand, the type of bonding he had in mind was probably illegal in a few states. "I just want to be prepared to speak to Colonel MacKenzie."

It was at that opportune time that Keeter decided to saunter in, catching the tail end of that conversation. "Speak to the Colonel? I assume about something pertaining to the law?"

Oooh, he was caught now between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't lie to either of them at the moment, not one bit. It really didn't help that Keeter was a true friend to Harm and Mac. Nor did it help that Loftness was doing that thing with his eyes – the laser beam stare. It was unsettling at best. "Yes and no, sir. . .The Colonel is a friend and. . .well, she should be apprised of the search and rescue operation."

"She is apprised." He assured Vic with a pat on the shoulder which was a little rougher than intended. "I can assure you that she doesn't need to hear from you on the matter, Commander. . .First off, you are not a pilot and know nothing about jets. Second, I'm _ordering _you to stay away from this unless it is law related."

Vic stared at a spot on one of the bulkheads, anger was flushing his face red. Sweat was dropping down the back of his neck. "Understood, sir." He was going to use the law to his advantage and state that it was an unlawful order, but the last thing he needed was more enemies. "However, if she requests to speak with me. . ."

"MAN OVERBOARD!" The 5MC announcement startled all those working on the bridge, bringing everything to a halt. Most of the personnel huddled towards the windows to try and find their fallen comrade. "There, skipper!" Keeter yelled, pointing to a speck just off the port side. A speck that was in the water and about to be passed by the massive vessel.

Intrigued, Vic weeded his way through to Vulture's Row, watching the scenes as the SAR helo was sent out to rescue the person. It took a good twenty minutes until the team made it back with the brown shirt which had fallen off the side. What he found most alarming was the fact that the medics were on the flight deck, one pressing a stethoscope onto the brown shirt's chest. As they neared the bridge Vic was able to get a good look. It was Airman Vincent Arjan, Harm's plane captain. "Shit!" This didn't bode well, especially if someone went snooping. Shoving past some of the enlisted personnel, Vic made his way through the bowels of the ship, hurrying to sick bay. When he finally arrived, a young officer, shoved him back. "I'll have your stripe for that, Ensign!"

Ensign Daniels stared up at Vic with bewilderment. "And I won't apologize, sir. . .You know better than to come in here. . .This is a sterile area. . .Now, get back."

"I need to see the Airman, it's urgent." It was as urgent as could be, the last thing he needed was for Arjan to start rambling things about a JAG officer and the plane that went down. "I hold his medical power of attorney."

Daniels' eyebrow rose in annoyance. "And I don't give a damn, sir. .." He held the hatch open for two nurses who stepped in, then tried to shut it, but Vic held it back. "Commander! This is serious."

Peaking inside Vic could see Arjan's body lying on the gurney, his clothing being shredded by the medical team. He somehow managed to make eye contact and quickly, the young man was frantically trying to get the nurses' attention. Fighting off the team, Arjan reached up and took down his oxygen mask. "JAG. . .JAG!" He yelled, the sound proceeded by a sharp sounding alarm.

"He's flat lining!" Someone from inside yelled and that was the last thing Vic heard as Ensign Daniels managed to push him away from the hatch and lock it solidly.

It was mean, evil and cold, but Vic didn't care. "Die, please, die." He said quietly, turning his back on the hatch and making his way back to the JAG office. It was best if he wasn't hovering around too much, someone would likely notice. Later that day, he was issued the case, a formal inquiring onto the Death of Airman Arjan. Was he pushed? Was it an accident or, God forbid, suicide?

Suicides didn't bode well on ships. Sometimes, in tense matters, it became an epidemic that would spread throughout. He was on his way down to the Airman's quarters when he ran into Captain Loftness. "Commander, I was just coming to see you."

Vic's eyes grew wide. There was something about that tone of voice that didn't settle well. "Yes, sir?"

"Airman Arjan had many friends onboard. . .A few of which had seen you and him arguing on the flight deck not too long ago." That was it, he was toast. "For now, you are taken off of his investigation. All of your duties are stripped and I am requesting that General Cresswell send someone out here to investigate _you._"

"Me, sir?"

Loftness actually seemed pleased. "Yes." He slapped Vic on the shoulder as he passed on by. "Oh, and don't go anywhere. . .No trips or anything."

Scoffing at the man's poor excuse for a joke, Vic tossed a pen against the bulkhead with all his might. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" This wasn't good. Not at all.

2255 Local  
Club Little Pink Kitty Kat  
Washington, DC

"Ma'am, are you sure this is alright?" Mayfield's outfit was borderline racy, something which she didn't mind wearing for a night out with a man she wanted to seduce, but not to walk into the place they were going. Mac's attire, wasn't any more modest and would certainly raise an eye or two. Sturgis was wearing a black suit with pinstripes.

Mac grinned. Between Sturgis and Tali, she didn't know which one was more freaked. "It's fine. . .And lighten up, Sturgis, you can't lead me to believe you've never been to a strip club." Her grin widened a bit more as his skin flushed. "I knew it."

"I have, but. .. this is different." He waved between Mac and Tali, shaking his head slightly. "If something happens to you, Harm'll. . ."

Annoyed, she linked an arm through his and told Mayfield to do the same. "Now, remember, act pimpish." The word sounded so stupid coming out of her mouth, but, honestly, what else could you say?

Sturgis stepped in with the swagger that she'd only seen him do once, when he'd beaten Harm on a particularly difficult case. He pulled out a wad of money, paid for himself and the girls, then headed towards a table right in the middle. Holding out a chair for each woman, he then situated himself right in the middle and leaned over to Mac. "They said her show starts at eleven."

Mac nodded. "We have three minutes then. . .Once she gets off stage, pay for a dance in the Champagne Room. . . I need to get her alone." She felt a hand on her shoulder, soft and gentle, unlike a man's skin. Turning, she came face to face with a blond woman looking unhealthily thin. _Ugh._

"I'm CiCi, Wanna dance?"

Holding back any want to clobber the woman, she simply took CiCi's hand off. "No thanks, I'm trying to cut down."

CiCi blew a kiss at Sturgis, making a project out of getting herself known. "Later then."

Tali chuckled. "I guess she bats for both teams?"

"For money, I'd say she'd bat for any team." Mac replied, the thought making her cringe just a little.

The show was the normal, run of the mill, bump, grind and slide against this pole which Mac deduced must be more toxic than the plague. Xu Mi managed to slide off the pole and nearly wound up on their table when her heel broke. The whole thing was slightly comical though it wasn't quite the method Mac was looking for in order to get information. Just as the girl's set was wrapping up, Sturgis waved over the seating host and laid a hundred dollar bill on the table. "We want a private dance with her. . .all three of us."

Andre, the host , while wearing an expensive looking monkey suit, was clearly of the tattooed variety. His hands were nearly covered and a tattoo on his neck seemed to be trying to run away and out of his collar. "Add fifty and you got yourself a deal." He'd spied Mac when they had stepped in. She sure didn't look the type to head into strip clubs, but you never knew these days. "You can head back there now. . .Xu will be done soon. . .I'll send her right back."

Mac smiled and, for effect, let her hand linger a little longer than allowed on Andre's hand. "Thanks."

Sturgis took up his pimp act again, weaving the ladies through the crowded bar and into the Champagne Room. There were two men and two ladies back there already. No matter, because before he had a say so, Mac was already on them. "Get out." She pulled one stripper off one man and Mayfield took care of the other. "Come back when we're done."

The three were settled in around a round table when Jin Lie Xu stepped in. "All three?" She smiled at Sturgis as she settled herself atop the table.

"Not quite." Sturgis took out the papers and picture he had hidden in his breast pocket. "Do you know this man?"

Jin glanced at the picture of Kent Wolf, her eyes immediately widening. "Are you a cop?"

"We aren't the police, no."

"'cause, you know, you gotta tell me if you are. . .I mean, I asked you." She rambled off all the while trying to find a way to run out of this situation. Jin made to stand up, but a hand on her bicep stopped her. "Let me go or I'll scream."

Mac shrugged. "I sincerely doubt they'll hear you over the music. . .This will be quick, I just need to ask you a few questions." Sighing dramatically, she motioned for the picture. "Do you know him?"

The girl took a glance at the photo, merely to have something to do. She did know him. "He's a regular. Usually comes in with. . .another guy. . .They're Marines (instead of "Marine's") . . . I think."

Hmm. Somehow it wasn't quite the response Mac would have received from a woman that had been raped. "There's a rumor going around that he attacked you once."

That had Jin moving, quickly. In a flash, she stood up, toppling the table to its (instead of "it's") side. "I'm not answering any more questions, not until you tell me who the hell you are!"

"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, JAG Corps. . .That is Commander Sturgis Turner and Lieutenant Commander Tali Mayfield. . .We're lawyers." Mac stood up as well, moving around the downed table and stepping closer to Jin. "More importantly, we're Kent Wolf's attorneys (instead of "attorney"). . .A woman claimed he attacked her and that she then attacked him in self defense. . .Her lawyer says he attacked you."

"Kent would never do that. . . Never." The pressure from having these people in such close proximity was getting to her. "He and I. . .We dated for quite some time. . .I was a little young, that's his only crime. . .but he didn't attack me and he didn't rape me."

That was it, a lead that Mac needed. "She didn't say he _raped_ you." Tali said, placing a comforting hand on Jin's shoulder. "We're not going to hurt you. . .But, he needs help."

Jin's shoulders rose up and down as she cried. "A man came to me. . .a lawyer. . .he said. . .he said he'd. .. that there would be money involved if I helped him. . .so, I lied. . .I said that Kent attacked me. . .But, he didn't, he didn't."

"Why are you telling the truth now?" Sturgis asked, ever one to be leery of random acts of altruism.

"Because I loved him." The woman said between sobs. "I loved him and knew his mother would never accept me. . .I didn't want to ruin his life."

"Then testify. . .Help Kent." Mac said. Apparently, the stars were aligned properly that night. Jin agreed.

They took the girl out of the club that night and set her up at a hotel near Falls Church with two corporals standing guard outside her room. She would be safe until the morning.


	14. Beyond The Pale

Firstly, thank you for all of the feedback, you guys have been great. Can't believe you stick around fo this, I know I dish out a lot. So Thanks!

Second, all ye Vukovic haters - you're still going to have a loooooong haul with the guy. No, I am not trying to torture you. . .well. . .maybe I am. . .;) Anyway, he's just a key player. Eventually bad stuff will come to him. Doesn't he just suck in this story? Makes ME want to slap him, and I'm the writer!

Third - The title for this chappie comes from a song of the same name by The Mission.

Enjoy!  
Jackie

**PART 14 – Beyond The Pale**

December 28, 2010  
1215 Zulu  
Location Unknown

Pain. Ravishing, horrible pain was racing up his leg. Harm held out, willing himself not to scream. He raised his head up, finding both Connor and Ella still asleep. _Good._ He thought, struggling to stand up in order to step outside of the house. The day prior hadn't gone too well. Though they'd taken every measure possible to heal the gash on his leg, it was clearly infected. Ella had prepared more mixture with Lavender and Harm had taken the last six aspirins they had. Nothing had helped keep the fever down. It was somewhere in the middle of the night when he'd finally fallen asleep due to exhaustion.

Half crawling, half walking, he pushed open the door and stumbled outside. Lying on the ground, he curled up in fetal position and cried. He couldn't imagine anything hurting, little did he know that he'd been in worse pain once he struck the deck during his ramp strike.

The memories hadn't returned and frustration was burning deep within him, festering, growing. Harm felt alone and lonely. He felt hurt and unsafe. Most of all, he was angry at himself, at God and every other saint in the sky. At the woman in the picture he kept in his pocket. He was just angry, period. Frustration and anger, not a good mix.

The pain managed to subside slightly, enough for him to come to his feet using the bamboo stick as a crutch. Maybe there was something to his memories? A key that could unlock it. An elusive key which he was beginning to doubt existed. What if he had to spend the rest of his life like this? "So be it." He said under his breath. With no life, no friends, no. . .nothing, he would rebuild. That is if this stupid infection didn't kill him first. "Talk about adding insult to injury." Glancing out towards the horizon he saw the storm clouds beginning to form. "Not again."

In just a few days on the island, he'd experienced more rain than he thought possible. If the sun came out, it was meant to be enjoyed as, no less than an hour later, the clouds would roll in and then quickly roll out. Everything was soggy, wet, disgusting. And though the inside of the house wasn't wet, the humidity was so high that everything stuck to him. It made healing the wound impossible. Frowning, he removed the cloth and took a good look at his leg. It was the first time he'd actually seen it, the sight making his stomach turn. His flesh was purple, green, red and pink all at the same time while the leg started to burn again. It was swollen badly and some of the stitches had begun to rip off.

The reality that he was probably going to die before he got home was rather unsettling. Slowly, he removed the drawing from his pocket and stared at the woman he knew as Sarah. It was a little odd feeling something for a woman he didn't know. What he felt, he wasn't too sure. Love? No, because it was impossible to love someone who wasn't familiar to him. If not that, there was something else. Lust. He grinned at the picture. Yes, there were certainly lustful thoughts abut this woman, those lips on certain parts of his body.

Raindrops began falling on him, some of it smearing the drawing which he quickly put away in order for it not to get damaged. In his fray, he misjudged the extent of which his leg was capable of moving and wound up flat on his face. "Help. . .Help!" The pain was radiating again, shooting up his leg with such a force it was blinding. "Help me!"

A shirtless Connor stepped out of the house and hurried to his friend's side. "Mack, what the hell are you doing?" He took the man, half walking, half dragging him back to his makeshift bed. "You can't go out there, we've told you this. . .And you have to stay off of that leg." He stared at the wound and frowned, that wasn't looking good. Not at all.

0940 Local  
JAG Headquarters  
Falls Church, Virginia

Mac, Sturgis and Tali stood before the General's desk waiting for instructions. The man was on the phone, yelling to whoever the poor soul was on the other line. "Vukovic, you are a disgrace to your uniform!" Alright, so maybe it wasn't a poor soul. "I want you to listen to Captain Loftness. I'll have someone over there as soon as possible. . .Stay out of their way and that's an order!" He slammed the phone down onto the cradle making everyone but Mac flinch. Cresswell raised his hands as if he were choking an invisible person. Then he looked up at his officers, scowl firmly in place. "I need to make some. . .changes in your team. . .Lieutenant Commander Vukovic is being investigated."

Vic had done stupid things, Mac knew that quite well, but she never figured he would do something so stupid that it warranted an investigation. "Investigated, sir?"

"At ease, have a seat." Sighing heavily, Cresswell dropped into his chair. This wasn't going to turn out well, he could tell. "A plane Captain, Airman Vincent Arjan, went overboard yesterday. . .He was rescued but died due to head trauma. Apparently he hit his head on the side of the deck before falling in. . .They found a letter, it was a suicide."

"What did the letter say, sir?" Sturgis' baritone voice carried over the room. "Did it mention why?"

Cresswell shook his head. "The only thing they found were the words 'Forgive me for what I've done.' Nothing else."

"How does Vukovic play into this?" Mayfield was curious, more than curious. She knew him better than most, knew what type of things he would do in order to get to the top. It was disgusting, she still couldn't believe they were serious once. The thought made her angry.

"Well, Commander, we aren't too sure. . .The Skipper spoke to two purple shirts which said that they'd seen Commander Vukovic and Airman Arjan in an argument. . .Arjan's bunkmate states that the boy was never the same after. . ." He glanced at Mac and frowned. "After Captain Rabb's plane went down."

Mac's mouth opened slightly, her head spinning with implications and thoughts. "Was Airman Arjan Captain Rabb's plane captain?"

"Yes, Colonel." He knew how bad it looked, especially if Vukovic was involved. The argument could have been random, but what if it hadn't?

The next blow was one which Cresswell was preparing for, only, he didn't know who he was dealing with. "Permission to lead the investigation, sir."

"I knew you would ask and the answer is no, Colonel. . .Commander Mayfield. . ."

It was completely against protocol and something Mac had never done with such conviction. "No, sir. . .You will not send anyone else."

"You're walking the thin line of insubordination, Colonel. . .And I don't like it."

"No, I don't suppose you do, sir."

Sturgis and Mayfield traded looks of shock and surprise. Never had they seen something of this sort, especially not so openly. "You've been looking for a way to head out there. . .I know you think that this is that opening, but it isn't. . .All it will do is destroy you."

"I can find him, sir." Mac was still certain that her gift wasn't long gone. Maybe it just needed a change of location? Maybe she needed to be closer. "I know I can."

Cresswell threw his hands up in the air. "Did you not hear me the first time, Colonel? The answer is NO!"

For the life of her, Mac couldn't say what came over her. Why she'd tossed all of her training and discipline away. It could be blamed on love or the fact that she knew she had to save him or no one would. As uncharacteristic as it was, she let her emotions show and slammed her fist onto the top of Cresswell's desk. "Then I resign."

"Resign? Just like that you would give up everything?"

"They mean nothing to me without him."

Cresswell was now beyond frustrated. "You're insane, Colonel."

No, she wasn't insane. For the first time in her life she knew exactly what she wanted and needed. She would be damned if anything took that away. "Sir, put yourself in my shoes. . .If it were your wife out there. . ."

That got him thinking. If it were his wife or even his child, in seconds he would be out there, consequences be damned. "I would. . .I would do the same." Sighing, he settled back into his chair, this slight tête-à-tête taking the wind out of his sails. "I can't let you go. . .You're too valuable to me here. And, don't threaten me with your resignation. . .if you DO resign, Colonel, you'll never get out to the Henry."

"With all due respect, sir, that's not quite true. . .I don't need a military transport. I have friends in the CIA who owe me for a life time and I've been waiting for the right moment to collect. . .If you're worried about me, sir. . .then don't. I've already gone beyond the pale."

For the first time in his life General Cresswell was speechless, something that those in command were never quite used to. He hated giving in, especially when he knew this was a mistake. Maybe, not a mistake, but it wasn't appropriate. "And what about the Wolf case?"

"Our investigation last night gave us a new witness that will blow the case wide open. . .Commanders Turner and Mayfield are completely capable to handle this case . . .I have my full trust in them." She turned to Tali and Sturgis. "Sturgis you were one of the best. Tali, you're going to be one of the best. . .Do your jobs."

"Colonel, you're making my job extremely difficult." Cresswell said, his voice gruff. Grunting, he shoved his finger into one of the buttons of the intercom. "Petty Officer, I don't care who you talk to, but get Colonel MacKenzie a ride to the Patrick Henry. That's an order." Turning to Mac, he shook his head in disbelief. "You are going to owe me for this, Colonel. . ."

"Thank you, sir." Her smile lit up the room and those eyes which had clouded with sadness since Harm's disappearance seemed to have a renewed spirit.

It was very amusing how quickly news traveled, especially within the military. It had been no more than two hours since Mac's departure from Andrews when Cresswell received a call from none other than Secretary of the Navy Caroline Hewitt. Just like her predecessors, Hewitt was a royal pain in the ass. Unlike her predecessors, she wanted daily reports on everything pertaining to JAG. Once she had received word on Mac's departure to the Henry, she was livid. "Madam Secretary, I assure you, it was in the best interest for the Navy."

(Hewitt wasn't too sure about that. She needed MacKenzie on dry land,not chasing some dream on a ship that was in hostile territory. _"General, I've never disagreed with any of your suggestions, but this is ludicrous! How could you send a high ranking officer to investigate something which a junior officer is perfectly able to do?"_ One of the last things that she needed was Mac and Vic facing off, it wouldn't bode well for future negotiations.)

"The Colonel threatened to resign, Madam Secretary. And if she is as important to you as it is rumored she is, then you wouldn't want that resignation either."

(_"Of course the Colonel is important to me! A female Marine in such a high position, in a man's world. . .You do the math, General." _Oh, but it was much more than that. So much more than that.)

"I can assure you that the Colonel will not like anyone toying with her position. Especially if it means a politician is the one doing the toying."

(Hewitt laughed whole heartedly. These JAG's were just too much fun. _"General, that sounded somewhat like a threat. . .I don't like threats."_)

"It's not a threat Madam Secretary, just a warning. Be careful of what you do in regards to Colonel MacKenzie, you may lose more than a good officer. . .In her words, she's gone 'beyond the pale.'"

(_"I like your spunk, General."_ Her tone was not very friendly nor amusing, just border line condescending. _"Perhaps when you are done playing JAG, you'll come work for me."_)

_Or not,_ Cresswell thought with a cringe. The one thing he despised about his position was the politics involved. The ways in which the government used the military was sometimes disgusting. "I would be honored, Madam Secretary."

He lied.

December 29, 2010  
1235 Zulu  
50 Miles away from the USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

Mac could barely keep her eyes open any longer and exhaustion was starting to get the best of her. "Ma'am, we're about fifty miles out." She heard the helo Captain say over the intercom to their only passenger.

"Roger." The muscles all over her body were protesting the lack of sleep in a normal bed. Since she'd blackmailed the General into letting her investigate she'd been on the move. One rough ride in a C-130 with sixty, hard up, Marines from Andrews to the Naval Air Station in Key West. She waited there a good two hours until all the red tape for a flight into South America had been approved. Boarding an AirForce C-5, Galaxy, her flight ended in of all places, Paraguay.

Four years ago, the United States had come to agreement with the Paraguayan government. A former Paraguayan Army base was turned over to the United States as a joint military base. "You look like you've been here before, ma'am." A helo pilot had told her, noticing a longing look in Mac's eyes.

"I was. . . a lifetime ago."

He smiled. "It's a magical place."

"That's not quite they way I'd put it." It was so magical she'd managed to stick her foot in her mouth and forever change the course of their history. "When are we heading out?"

"Twenty minutes. We'll rendezvous with the Guadalcanal and from there, I understand there's another helo waiting for you. . .If I may be so bold to say, helluva trip."

Mac couldn't agree more. "And I can't wait for it to be over. . .See you in twenty."

That seemed like eons, not just half a day ago. She leaned her head against the side of the helo, thinking twice when the rattling practically shook her brain out of her head. The Patrick Henry was getting closer, changing from the size of a grain of rice to that of a postage stamp. This was the worst phase of the trip, taking the helo across the ocean from the LHA to the carrier. The weather had been awful and they'd seemed to have flown right into every bad patch of air possible. "Prepare for landing." The pilot said and Mac braced herself as they touched down on the ship.

"Yes." She let out a whimper. Hopefully, the skipper would allow her an hour or two of rack time before beginning the investigation. Once they allowed her to disembark, she stepped off, saluted a crew member and headed towards the island. Inside, it wasn't too long before Mac was standing across from Loftness. "Surprised to see me, Skipper?" It was clearly evident that neither Loftness nor Keeter where quite aware of who would come to replace Vukovic.

Loftness looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Yes. . .To be honest, I thought your CO would try to keep you away from here. . ."

"He did. . .I threatened to resign my commission. . ." She said smugly. "I'm sure you need this investigation with Vukovic wrapped up quickly, but I do need some rack time if you can give it to me."

"Of course, Colonel. . .Take all of the time you need." He turned to glance out to the rolling seas and the clouds which seemed to be nearing. "Colonel, I. . .I know how difficult all of this is for you. Don't you think being on board. . .won't it exacerbate the situation?"

Exacerbate was not the word she'd use. If anything, she was hoping it would accelerate that little gift of hers which was, obviously, taking a vacation. "No, Skipper. . .It may be just the thing I need."

Whatever that meant Loftness couldn't be sure. "Get some rest, Colonel. . .We'll talk more later."

Surprisingly, sleep came easy, even in the cramped, uncomfortable rack in her quarters. Mac didn't dream and though she awoke rested and refreshed, she would have given anything to have dreamt about Harm.

After speaking with Loftness, she sought after Vic who had been stripped of his duties aboard ship. As a request from the Captain, a Marine Corporal was to escort him around everywhere. That same Marine stood guard outside of the officer's mess while she had a little talk with boy wonder. "Let's get down to the chase. . .You do know why I am here."

"I would like to think that the General didn't let you travel all the way over here for Captain Rabb."

Ouch, talk about the wrong way to start a conversation. He'd wondered if Hewitt knew anything about th reason why Mac was onboard.

"Funny that the first thing out of your mouth is a reference to the Captain, which I wasn't talking about. I'm here to talk about _you._" The conversation she'd had with Loftness right before meeting with Vukovic was, shall we say, enlightening. It would be a true test of her character not to throttle the man for certain allegations that had been pieced together before her arrival.

Nevertheless, Vukovic deserved an impartial investigation, she was going to try to give him that. "I don't believe in coincidences and find it rather. . .disturbing that you were having an argument with, of all personnel on board, Captain Rabb's plane captain, Seaman Arjan. . ."

"He came to me for legal advice ma'am and when you are aboard something the size of a postage stamp with tensions running high, as they are. . .you tend to rub people the wrong way."

Thing about Vic was that he seemed to rub just about everyone the wrong way. Mac was never sure why his disdain had to cut so deep even to those who could, potentially, help him out of a bind. Something about his character reminded her of one Lieutenant Lauren Singer, an officer who alienated and, frankly, pissed people off so badly that her death itself was practically ignored. "I've been onboard before, Commander. . .I _know_ what life here is like. . .I know about pissing people off." With that, she reached into her briefcase, pulled out a tape recorder and set it on the table, in between them. "I know you won't mind that right?"

Mind? Like he had a choice? Vic shook his head. "No, ma'am. . .I have nothing to hide." It was true, he had nothing to hide because he was hiding everything. Arjan's death was a blessing, but with it came a whole gaggle of things he wasn't prepared for. Blackmail should have been enough to keep the man quiet, it was, after all, Hewitt's suggestion that he take a more active role in keeping Rabb out of the picture. And that brought up another problem. Secretary of the Navy Caroline Hewitt's patience was running on thin ice. Before MacKenzie had arrived, she'd phoned the ship, spoken to Vukovic and warned him. What was worse, though, were the words she used in an anger that was legendary. He could still hear her yelling over the line, calling him names. The degradation was fine, he could handle that, but her being so upset at him. . .that was a different thing altogether.

Mac pressed the record button, and settled back into her chair. Thankfully, there was a rest between the time that flights were to begin again and the interview could be conducted quietly, without disturbance. "Let's start at the beginning. . .How did you know Seaman Arjan?"

Vic raised his hands. "Before we do this, you mind if we have coffee? I missed my morning dosage and. . .this isn't going to get anywhere without some caffeine in my system."

Reaching over, she pressed the stop button on the recorder. "Sure. . .grab two cups and bring the pot over to this table." The last thing she was going to do is have him pour her a cup. Maybe she was panicking, but the last thing she needed was for Vic to slip something in her drink.

It wasn't much time, not much time at all, but Vic needed to prepare, to remember all of the plays he went through in his head. Much of the night he spent in his rack thinking of possible questions a JAG officer would ask. Little did he know that he would have MacKenzie to face. He was hoping they would send a junior office, maybe even Mayfield. Vic would handle her, he always could. But, MacKenzie, lately she was immune to his charms. Hell, he doubted she would even stop if she'd find him dying in the middle of the road. That had to change though, sooner or later. "Alright, ma'am."

Mac pressed record again and took a long swig of the bitter drink before addressing the man across from her. "Let's start at the beginning. . .How did you know Seaman Arjan?"

Uncharacteristically, Vic scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned in slightly. She'd barely started and already he was getting knots on his stomach. This line of questioning was killing him. "Vinnie. . ." He paused for a moment. _Yeah, calling him Vinnie was a good idea, Vic! His friends called him Vinnie._ "Ah, Seaman Arjan liked to be called that, anyway. . .Vinnie came to me just as I got on board. . .He was having trouble with his wife back home. . .She wanted to leave him and he was pursuing all legal variables to, I guess, help her stay." Ah, there went the characteristic eyebrow. Sometimes Vic wanted to smack that look off of her face. That whole, indefinite 'I don't believe a damned thing you are saying' look. Frankly, each and every time she's used that on him, Mac was right.

For her part, Mac was trying not to laugh as her next question percolated.. "And are you a couple's therapist?" Images of a nerdy Harm and a jackass named Hughes popped up in her mind.

"Not that kind of help, ma'am. . .He was. . .perusing the avenues of divorce and what he would be entitled to."

"You wouldn't happen to have a file with this information would you?"

"It was in passing, ma'am. . .I never wrote it down."

_How convenient, _Mac thought. "Commander, one thing about being a successful lawyer: write EVERYTHING down." She said, punctuating the words with the tap of her pen against the table. "Even when it's free advice, I write it down and store it with the name, date and anything else that may be notable."

"Well, I'm sorry I am not as _perfect_ as you are, Colonel. . .Then again, that's why I am a squid and you are a Marine."

The redness on Mac's face came almost instantly. "I suggest you stow that condescending tone, especially when I am here to try and get you out of a mess that you have managed to find yourself in." She took a sip of her coffee, then placed the cup down and stared at Vic for a good minute. "Alright, so there are no files of your conversations with Seaman Arjan."

Vic shook his head. "No, ma'am. .. He never really sat down and did anything officially."

"Did anyone see you speaking to Arjan?"

"Not that I can think of, no."

"Well, on a ship the size of 'a postage stamp' as you put it, you'd figure _someone_ was passing by the legal office when you were with Arjan."

Damn the woman, he felt as if he were on trial! "If there were people passing by, I wasn't paying attention to them. We pretty much mind our own business here. . .The tension can't afford anyone screwing up."

Ah, yes, the tension. Mac was wondering how many times that word was going to show up. Maybe that 'tension' he was referring to was the sexual one she knew he had for her. "Moving on to the day of the argument. . ."

He interrupted, "Alleged argument, ma'am."

"Why do you say that?"

Vic laughed, he was a lawyer and knew the word games that they played, she couldn't be so stupid to think he'd fall for that trick. "Because, I'm a Washington Weenie that no one likes because I approved Captain Rabb and his wingman to go into hostile territory. I am the one that send them up there with the knowledge that though they had zillions of dollars worth of armament onboard, they couldn't use it until someone SHOT at them. . .How the hell do you think that makes me feel?" His performance would certainly be worthy of an Oscar nomination. It was played out to perfection, even the mock tears that he was able to squeeze out by rubbing a finger on his lower eyelid. A finger that he'd coated in cologne just for that reason. "He is lost now, the others were shot down. . .I'm not the most favorite person on board. . .It's easy for the flight crew to think that Arjan and I had an argument and use that to get my six in trouble. We were out on the flight deck, wearing cranials and goggles. Hell, you could be out there singing opera and with those things on no one would know the difference."

He did have a point there, but people weren't stupid. An argument was an argument and even with cranials and goggles, it was evident just by the person's posture. "What were you two _discussing, _then?"

"I couldn't really hear him. . .So I asked him to come by the office later. That's all."

Mac made some notes on her pad and then turned up to him. "Two green shirts reported that the conversation was, at least, three to five minutes long. . . When you told him to visit your office, were you speaking in slow motion?"

Vic grinned, sometimes that spunk of hers was damned fun. "No, ma'am. . .And it was shorter than that. . .Not even a minute long."

She made a note of that as well. Something wasn't adding up and all of the negatives were pointed at Vic's direction. "By request of Captain Loftness, he had two Marines search, tag and bag anything in Arjan's and his roommate's quarters after he had passed on. . .Do you know what they found?"

This was the part he was dreading, an implication that he was the King Pin that terminated Captain Harmon Rabb's life. "No, ma'am. . .By that time the Skipper had me confined to quarters." And damn did he try to escape but those stupid Marine guards are as tenacious as anything. "I was barely allowed to have chow."

"Well, they found a letter written by Airman Arjan just before he decided to jump off the ship. . .One a little more elaborate than the first note." Carefully, she watched his expression, waiting for the man to pale or redden. Neither happened, but she didn't see the sweat dripping down his neck, past his shirt collar and down his back. The only 'tell' was the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, his eyes were unreadable. Reaching into her briefcase, she pulled out an evidence bag, in it was the letter. "Would you like to hear what it says?" She taunted him, knowing full well it was probably killing him.

Vic shrugged, feigning indifference. "If you want to tell me, sure. But, I don't see where this is going." He chuckled, a nervous habit. If that letter said what he thought it said, he was toast.

Mac raised the letter up. "_God forgive me. I am a traitor. I betrayed my country. The LAW betrayed me.' _He wrote LAW in all caps, '_I won't go to jail. Someone else should go to jail. I am a coward. I'm sorry. – Vincent Arjan."_ She placed the letter back in her briefcase and turned to face Vukovic. Still, that impassive look was on his face. Mac would have given anything to know what he was thinking. "It's short but, there's something about it."

"He's implying that someone helped him." He helpfully pointed out with a sigh. "That means someone on this ship. . ."

"I'm not obtuse, Vukovic. . .Neither are you, so stop pretending." She slammed her fist on the table, the action finally getting a reaction from the man across from her. "Airman Arjan did something he obviously regretted. Something that someone put him up to."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Mac stood up so fast, the chair flew out from under her. "What did you do to him? Why do I have the feeling that you. . .you told him to tamper with Harm's plane!" That's it, she couldn't play the commanding officer or act proper anymore. This time, it was hitting too close to home. It was personal and if Vukovic was involved, she was going to make sure he paid. The moment she saw another excuse about to emanate from his lips, she took out another paper and slammed it on the table. "It's a preliminary investigation, they aren't finished. . .But, so far, they _know_ someone tampered with the plane. Specifically, the _pilot_ ejector seat. . .Earlier today they found the engines, those will be tested as well. . .When things are so _tense _around the carriers, no one is allowed to go near the planes. . .The only persons who could have gotten THAT close to the plane were the plane captain, pilot and RIO. Now, I doubt sincerely that the pilot and RIO want to fuck with their ejector seats or anything else." She walked away from the table, pacing just a few feet away, trying anything to calm her raging nerves.

It was then, that she finally saw the light. That her gift began to awaken from its slumber. Mac stumbled forward, her head becoming heavy and dizzy. She felt herself falling into Vukovic's arms, he'd barely managed to catch her before her head collided with a table.

The vision came with dreary colors and sounds. It was raining and a faint smell of Lavender lingered in the air. She felt hot, feverish and cold all at the same time. Then came the pain, a searing, blinding pain on her leg, it felt like someone had severed it in two. "Medic! Get a medic!" Vukovic yelled as he removed his shirt in order to place under Mac's head. "Mac, you'll be alright." Despite all she was trying to do to him, he still couldn't stop _feeling_ for her. Now, if she would only stop feeling for Rabb and turn her affections towards him.

Mac was feeling worse by the second and as those sick feelings intensified, she could see him clearly. "Harm." He was lying on the ground inside some sort of primitive home. His leg bandaged, his clothing civilian an unfitting. He was alive. "Harm."

As Vic watched the war rage inside of her, he never had such a mixture of emotions. He wanted to kill her for calling out another man's name. He wanted to protect her from whatever nightmare she was having. "No, he's dead, Mac. . .It's me Vic."

"Harm!" She said louder now, her eyes becoming heavy, sleep trying to claim her. As the vision came to an end, she felt herself being lifted up and placed on some soft, padded surface. She could hear noises whizzing past her and the hyper change from light to dark and dark to light A hatch closed behind her and someone was pressing a cold object under her khakis and onto her heart.

The last thing she remembered was a vision of Harm, badly hurt and needing her. He needed her more than ever now. One painful jab to her arm and two seconds later the darkness consumed her.


	15. The Mission

**Moving right along. After Part 16 the updates might slow down, I've had a headcold for a week and my writing is taking the backseat. I can't seem to formulate a sentence past "Mac is sad." Somehow, good writing that does not make. ;)**

**Thank you for all of the feedback gang! I try to get back to all of you!  
Jackie**

** PART 15 – The Mission**

December 29, 2010  
2145 Zulu  
50 Miles away from the USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

Sounds, all disembodied and unrecognizable, had brought her back from what felt like a drug induced coma. Opening her eyes was a big mistake as a flash of pain made them shut closed again. Amidst the fogginess in her brain, once Mac managed to prop one eye open, she could make out a figure. The person looming over her was definitely male, with dark, cropped hair. He was obviously worried about her, if his hand in hers was any indication. There was something in the tenderness of the moment and although the touch was not familiar, for a brief second, Mac hoped. Could it be? "Harm?"

The man squeezed her hand tighter, almost painfully. It wasn't the answer he was looking for. "No, Mac, it's Greg. . .ah, Vic." He placed one hand on her forehead, the other was still entwined with her own. "You scared the hell out of us."

The temptation to ask him what had occurred was overwhelming. And then, like a flash, the movie was playing behind her closed lids. She was arguing a point with Vukovic and, seconds later, she'd found Harm. "Oh God!" She made to sit up, annoyed when the man pushed her back down onto a cot. "Do that again and I'll break your arm, Vukovic." She shoved him off of her, swung her legs over the side of the cot and quickly thought twice of that move. "Woah." The room spun several times before it fell back into place. She was grateful, only momentarily, that Vic had reached a hand out to steady her.

"Ma'am, you're in no condition to go anywhere. . .The doctor has asked me to stay by your side." Actually, the doctor had asked him, repeatedly, to leave, but Vic outranked the whole medical staff. "You're going to hurt yourself, Colonel!" He finally said, in a voice that no junior officer should use around their superiors.

If she'd been in better shape, Mac would've probably decked him there, once and for all. Instead, she shoved him away from her, causing Vukovic to fall back on a small table. He rammed into it and spilled all of the contents onto the floor. "Clean that up. That's an order." She said, and continued on her way as best as she could, using the bulkheads and even the stairwells to steady herself. Mac needed to see the Captain, ASAP! This was a life and death situation. She only hoped Loftness didn't think she'd lost her mind. Needless to say, he wasn't happy to see her on his bridge looking like hell.

"You need some more rack time, Colonel. What's so important that it can't wait?" Truthfully, he was happy that she was well, the last thing he needed was another problem with a JAG officer on his watch. "Well, Colonel?"

Mac took a deep breath, hoping this man wasn't a skeptic. "I know where Captain Rabb is, Skipper."

That brought operations in the bridge to a near-halt. The XO and three of the sailors turned to her with a mixture of disdain, anger and confusion. Loftness himself wasn't sure he heard correctly. "Captain Rabb?" Maybe it was that look of desperation, but something made Loftness want to believe her. "Show me." He pulled a map down and handed it to her.

"No arguments?" That was certainly a first.

"I was here last time, remember?" He only hoped that his people didn't think he was completely insane. "Please." He pointed at the map, then stepped back to allow access to it. Noticing that the hustle on the bridge had come to a halt, he glanced at his crew. "Back to work, that's an order!"

All was still not right with Mac. For some reason her leg hurt and her head, it was woozy, out of it. The map in front of her seemed to cross, the coordinates becoming a haze. _C'mon MacKenzie!_ She ordered herself, holding tightly to the sides of the paper, hoping that it would come to her again. It had to come to her again. He was alive. He. . . Closing her eyes, the images were clear, playing like a movie in full color. An army. An island. Harm, he was hurt, he needed her help. Out of their own volition, her eyes wandered to a point on the map. Her finger pointed at a spot, its tip feeling a warm energy. It was the same feeling she had when Harm had gone down in 2001. "There."

"You're certain?" Loftness stared at her seriously. Sending people out on a wild goose chase was expensive and could lead to problems if they were really needed. "I need you to be sure of this, Colonel."

"I am!" She yelled, then sighed and shook her head. "I am. . .And it's an island. . .Un-chartered, but it's there. . . I know it is."

No one was too keen on the idea of searching for a man who was probably dead already. "Skipper, wasting our men to find someone who's probably dead by now." The XO pointed out. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I realize Captain Rabb must have meant a lot to you but it's. . .this is crazy."

"That's enough!. . ..XO, get Washington on the horn, tell them I need an aerial photograph and I need it yesterday." He gave Mac a half smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Get some rack time in, we'll call you up if we find something."

Mac shook her head. "Skipper, if. . .if there is something out there, I want to go. . ."

"You're making my life very difficult, Colonel." He pointed out. As much as he wanted to help there were areas where he crossed the line. "I need you to stay here and finish the interview with Vukovic. . .I promise, IF he is out there, you'll know. But, I can't let you tag along."

Vic was leaning against the bulkhead just outside the bridge, listening to the conversation. He'd finally managed to sneak away from his personal bodyguard, enough to hear what the commotion was all about. "Rabb can't be alive." He whispered. "He can't." Angrily, he slammed his fist into the bulkhead, feeling the bones in his hand crack. "Argh!" That had done it, he'd finally lost control. How the hell was he going to explain this one? He wondered as he weaved his way down to the doctor.

Negotiating with a Marine was usually an insurmountable task. Oddly enough, the Colonel had surrendered without argument. "Fine. . .But I want to be notified when he's found. I want to wait for him in sick bay."

Loftness was not sure what to make of this white flag Mac was raising. If anything, she'd been rumored to be a ball buster, the type that would even argue about the color of the sky. He didn't question it, but a good CO knew when something was up. "I won't be able to stop you, will I?"

He grin was infectious. "No, Skipper. . .I'm willing to risk it all."

"Get some rack time, you'll be called up to the bridge once we know something."

Nearly an hour later, the XO presented the black and white images to Loftness, then pointed to a spot right in the middle. "Skipper, the aerials have arrived. . .I don't know how we've never seen it before, but it's there. . .It's an island. . .the Colonel was right. Also, sir, Admiral Klein is on the horn."

Loftness took the call. It wasn't surprising in the least to have the higher ups contacting his ship. They needed authorization. However, he was shocked to find that all red tape had been lifted. According to the Admiral, the island didn't belong to any nation sovereign or otherwise. The reason for its lack of discovery was due to its two mile diameter and the lack of transportation which passed over that area. It was the perfect hide out. "Sir, I realize this is going to take some time to put together. Once we do, I would like to have video meeting so we can all be on the same page."

(_"Agreed, Captain. . .I shall contact you in no less than two hours. . .We'll see what else we can find out.")_

December 30, 2010  
0010 Zulu  
Location Unknown

"Mack? Mack, can you hear me?" Connor shook his head as he watched his wife carefully, she was trying so hard to wake their new friend. His unconsciousness didn't bode well, neither was the eerie color of his leg.

Tenderly, he placed his hands on either side of Ella. "Love, I think he's too far gone."

"This isn't fair!" The situation wasn't fair and neither was the fact that they'd managed to injure this man, Inadvertedly, but they had. "This is _our_ fault, Connor. . .We helped them build those machines. . .If he dies. . .it's on _our_ conscience!"

"Sarah." The man had never ceased mentioning the woman's name. It had made him increasingly irritable, the trauma of not remembering and yet, having vivid dreams of the woman had made Mack crazy. His leg was on fire, one that wouldn't go out, but he was waking up, glancing to Ella with hopes that she was the one he was dreaming of. "Sarah?"

Ella glanced at Connor, then back at Harm. "No. . .It's Ella. Did you dream of Sarah again, Mack?"

The man nodded, the dreams were becoming increasingly painful and distorted. "She was hurt. . .Tortured, I think. . .She kissed another man." It was difficult to decipher what he'd seen behind closed eyes. There were images, yes, but none that made sense. First, this Sarah person was pregnant, strapped to some sort of torture device. Next, he felt his bare hands cracking the necks of other men – men with weapons. Finally, the last scene was the one that had tormented him the most: Sarah was still pregnant and kissing another man who sat inside a red Jeep. "I'm in so much pain." He ground out, curling into fetal position in hopes of stopping the onslaught.

"I think it was better when he was unconscious." Connor said, wishing he could put the man out of some pain. The feeling of helplessness that had creeped in hadn't stopped. As much as they'd helped Mack, there were some things they couldn't do for the man. "Mack, you have to hold on. . .You can't die out here, mate." But, what was the point in living, day in, day out, on a beautiful island which was, basically, just a giant jail cell? No one was going to find them, the years had proven that over and over. The few planes that had passed over the area flew so high that they wouldn't been seen. And ships? They were unheard of.

Still, the pair lived with an undeniable hope for all wrongs to be righted. Though hope had dwindled during the years, faith was a difficult thing to break. "He's right, Mack. . .You need to hold on." Ella slipped her hand into her husband's, holding back the tears. She couldn't help but blame herself.

0120 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Unknown

It had taken a little longer than originally planned to secure everyone needed for the meeting. The Captain called Keeter, the Airboss, the XO, Mac and the Marine commanding officer, a tall, imposing African American, Second Lieutenant Scott Fields into the ready room where a video was patched to Washington. "The connection is terrible, please keep questions to the bare essentials, boys." After getting a stern look from Mac, Loftness clarified. "And girls. . .Since Commander Vukovic, our onboard JAG is being investigated, I've asked his CO, Colonel MacKenzie, to sit in." He flipped on the video device and it was immediately connected to Admiral Klein and a staff of about three other officers from different military branches. "Admiral, Sir. . .We are ready to begin."

The Admiral, though polished and strong looking, always seemed to suffer from insomnia. The dark circles under his eyes were a testament to the amount of time he spent making sure things worked. "I realize our connection is shotty today, so forget introductions and let's get to work. . .According to what we've found, there's a base on that island, with a hidden runway. . . There is also a small hangar with four planes inside." Mac and Keeter exchanged a look which seemed to pass on to those in the ready room. "We used the Aurora to check things out for us. It's clear from the markings that the runway is active. . .On the lower right side, you can see the marks from landings." He took a sip of water and sighed. "There's also an active base adjacent to the runway. . . An infrared scan gave us an idea of how many personnel they had. . .We can take them with a light contingency of Marines."

Mac was starting to panic. That wasn't where they were holding Harm. "Was there anything else on the island, Admiral?" She asked, feeling the lump at her throat starting to grow from the anticipation. _Please! Oh, please! _

"Yes, Colonel. . .There was some. . .sort of hut. Infrared scanning reported that there are three persons located inside. . .However, if any of our boys are alive, I think they are being kept on the base. . .But, I still want two Marines to check out that hut. . .We're sending you any information we were able to pick up. . .From here on out, it's your mission, understood?" The group agreed and as soon as the conversation was over, plans were in effect.

The plans that Washington had sent were sketchy, but something that Second Lieutenant Fields could handle, he'd been through worse. "I really wish we'd have an LHA with all of its toys for this, but the CRRC will do." He said with a sigh, glancing up at Loftness who just shrugged. "We'll be fine, sir."

"Do you have room for one more?" Mac bravely asked, knowing full well that they really couldn't say no to an officer of her superiority. They might not like it, but she was going to tag along.

Fields glanced between Loftness and Mac. "Respectfully, ma'am, I'd prefer it if you stayed behind. . .My team works well as is. . .adding someone else. . . However, it's the Skipper's call and yours. . .If you say you go, I won't argue, but I won't put you in the front lines either and you must do as I say."

"I'll go put on my cammies then." She grinned.

Keeter wrapped a hand around her bicep before she left the ready room. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack. . .Harm's out there and I am going to make sure he comes home." She saw Jack begin to complain, to whip up some reason as to why this was foolish. "Jack." She whispered, "I can't prove it yet, but I believe Airman Arjan tampered with Harm's plane because Vukovic either ordered him to or blackmailed him to. . .God knows who else is in his pocket. . .At least I know he can't get to me." She shoved her arm out of his grasp and then disappeared into the bowels of the ship.

In sickbay, Vukovic sat with a look of disgust as the doctor wrapped his hand. "You broke one finger, Commander." The man said, slightly irritated at the turn of events. "You could have broken your whole hand."

Vic sighed. "Could you just wrap it up, already?"

"Why? Hot date you're going to be late for?" The doctor joked, then nodded to the Marine at the doorway. "I don't think she'll like your body guard." As much as Vic hated to admit it, his little impromptu attack on the bulkhead was the method in which his guard found him. As he was still being investigated, the Captain ordered the Marine to follow the man everywhere. Marines were as tenacious as bulldogs.

It was extremely surprising to find Mac stepping into sickbay wearing her BDUs. "Doc, I need a first aid kit if you have one." She raised an eyebrow at Vukovic and motioned to his hand. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not, ma'am. . .Ah, are you going somewhere?" There was no reason for her to wear cammies on _this_ cruise. "You look like you're heading off to do PT or something, ma'am."

Mac grinned knowingly at him. "Or something." She took the kit from one of the nurses, thanked them and was on her way.

"Doc, I need you to finish up. . .It's important." He had a call to make and quickly. If what he thought was happening went down and Rabb _was_ alive, this could put a major damper on things. Vic needed to stop Mac and the only way he could do it is with the help of the SECNAV. "Nurse, get me on the horn to the Secretary of Navy and do it NOW, that's an order." Reluctantly, the woman glanced between Vic and the doctor. "Damnit, if you don't do that NOW I swear to God, I'll take everything from you. . .Your rank, your pension, everything." It was amazing how well threats worked. A minute later he was standing at the public phones, placing his hand over the receiver so he wouldn't be heard. "Madam SECRETARY, this is Lieutenant Commander Vukovic. . .We have a problem."

December 30, 2010  
0320 Zulu  
Location Unknown

Former Navy Seal David Cage hadn't had a good night's sleep since he'd agreed to help fund Neroli. While their idea had been genuinely about the greater good, shooting US pilots out of the sky was not something he signed on for. The idea was to start a group that protected the people of The United States against a regime that was turning their freedom into some sort of prison. They were revolutionaries, freedom fighters who strived to take over the power in the US and change it for the greater good. Since their inception, there had been nothing but bloodshed, narcotics and dirty money – things that made them profit.

The group consisted of thirteen men, all former service members, who had become lucrative business owners both in the USA and abroad. They had been forming an alliance for the last ten years, waiting for the right moment to strike. Somewhere along the way it stopped being about the people and became about punishment for a corrupt government. _"If they can kill those innocents from other countries, we can kill them." _Their leader, retired Army General Charles Hensley had said once, and since then mayhem ensued.

Cage had lost count of the planes which they'd shot down in the last year. So much for the greater good, from freedom fighters they'd turned into common terrorists. Walking through the base, he saluted two of the young recruits they'd managed to scoop up due to military separation. One of them he'd managed to get out of Leavenworth. The nineteen year old, a former Marine, had been accused of stealing from the commissary. The other man, a twenty one year old Army PFC, had filed a grievance due to harassment over his sexual preference.

That was the nature of their soldiers – people with a reason not to favor Uncle Sam's side. All of them were young, under twenty five, and extremely impressionable. Some just wanted to have fun and 'blow up shit.' It was every boy's wet dream. Everyone wore black BDUs with the proper insignia on their collars. Most walked around with holster strapped to their leg which housed a 45 mm pistol. Their covers sported the Neroli 'logo' – a phoenix rising from the ashes – a metaphor that Charles Hensley loved to use.

Despite his rank amongst the masses (Cage had retired as a Captain), there were still security checks at every point of entry and exit. No matter where you were going, even to use the head, you needed to scan a small, sku-like device which was implanted to their wrists. Apart from it telling the computers who you were, it was one hell of a tracking system. Arriving at the on-base brig, he scanned the sku against the computer, passed two guards and was then accepted inside. "Morning, Staff Sergeant." He said to one of their recruits and the former Soldier, John Mills, who was ordered to keep watch on the prisoners. "I know this is hard work, but you could afford a smile from time to time, no?" He loved harping on Mills, the man was too well trained and too well disciplined to help himself.

"Until this war is over, there is nothing to smile about, sir." Mills said, keeping that ironclad face as he held tightly to his AK-47. "Commander Rudy said you were coming today, sir. . .Interrogating again?" At Cage's nod, the soldier grinned slightly. "If you ever need help, sir. . .My services are available. .. I can make them talk."

Cage had no doubt in his mind that if Mills was the interrogator, there would be a lot of blood, sweat and screams coming from their interrogation room. "Yes, thank you. . .I'll keep that in mind." He patted the soldier on the shoulder then walked into another room which housed the brig's surveillance system. A kid, no older than fifteen, sat before the screens typing frantically on the computers. "Hey, Billy. . .Anything yet?"

Billy, who was kidnapped from his parents six months ago, didn't find it too difficult to adapt to his surroundings. He had always been a sickly child and ideas of joining the Navy to work on their ships had been quashed because of a severe form of asthma. He glanced at Cage, picked up his inhaler and took two hits before speaking. "Nope, not a thing Dave. . .They either talk about their girls back home or they talk about the foods they miss or they talk about. . .Nothing. . .Sometimes, they even sing." He said with a grin, then turned back to the computer.

"What, exactly, do you do here all day?" Cage knew the boy did the surveillance for the entire base and a boundary that spread close to the hut on the other side of the island. "And what about the Gerard's? Has the camera come back online?"

The kid bit back a hiss, then spun around in his chair. "Nope. .. I told you already. The fucking storm winds knocked the cameras out. . . Animals ate the cables. . .It's useless."

"And pointless." Cage added silently as he slipped into a chair next to Billy. "Why were the prisoners moved? Shouldn't they have been in Cell B?"

Billy shrugged. "The mighty 'ol Admiral's request. . .Guess they shot someone else down and needed the room."

"They did, but the Navy rescued them first." He said with a sigh. The damned US Navy was a bit too close for comfort. The island was basically operating under their noses and the poor fools hadn't been able to figure it out. "Open up the gate, I'm going to have a chat with them." He stepped outside of the computer room and waited for a series of doors to open. He stepped through each one, scanning his wrist along every other door until he reached Cell B. "Alright, Billy, open it." He said into the room, knowing that the surveillance equipment would pick it all up.

When the doors opened he found two of the pilots sitting on a cot, playing cards. The other was probably in the head while the fourth was resting in his rack. "Gentlemen." He nodded at the group, then made his way slowly to an industrial looking, metal chair which he sat on. "How are we doing?"

The four men in the room were all pilots who had been shot down within the last year or so. If the men would make it, Neroli would pick them up and use them for the cause. Or, at least, try too. The damned US military trained pilots too well in the art of evasion. The group consisted of two Marine pilots – Captain Eric "Slingshot" Everson and Major Stephen "Smitty" Eaton. The other two were Navy pilots – Lieutenant Christopher "Harley" Osborn and Lieutenant Manuel "Manny" Santos. Being the higher ranking officer from the four, Smitty was always the one to speak on behalf of them. He slipped out of his rack and stood up. "We'd be doing better if you let us out of this rat cage."

Cage stiffened slightly, the men were becoming strong again, either that or they were feigning weakness in order to overthrow him. "You know, things would be so much easier if you just joined us. . .Once all of this is over, you can return to your families as heroes."

"More like traitors." Smitty said as he neared his nemesis. He'd taken a personal hatred for Cage's ignorance. How could a former service member turn his back on his nation? It was disgusting. "We aren't going to join you. . .Besides, it looks like OUR side will be the one winning. . .We heard about the two MIGs you lost." He smiled smugly, the guards, while diligent, had a habit of speaking too loudly. That's the way they got all of their dish. "I know the Tomcats are out again. . .and, if that's the case, they will shoot you down one by one. . .You can't win."

"I suggest you drop the bravado." Leaning in, a sadistic grin was painted on his face. "I'll have you know, the MIGs have already shot down two Tomcats." The look he gave the pilots was one they knew too well. Cage was telling the truth. "The pilots haven't joined you yet, because. . .Well, let's just say I have a friend of mine who is into the torture thing." He lied. There never had been plan of any type of torture. The pilots were too valuable to damage them in any way.

Smitty shook his head. "If you've held us this long, taking care of us so damned well, you wouldn't torture us. So you better get the fuck out of here. . .I got nothing more to say."

Cage never really agreed with Neroli's current terrorist tactics, but he had to admit, these pilots were the key. And they were pissing him off. Standing quickly, he grabbed Smitty by the lapels and had him up against a wall, knife to his throat. He was aware of the pilots now close behind him. "Back off fellas or I'll slit his throat." As it was, the knife had given the man a slight cut, causing blood to drip downwards. There would be hell to pay for that little movement and as the guards tore Cage off of the pilot, his threats echoed through the walls. "They are NEVER coming for you. . .Never. . .We're the only hope you have to get out. . .US. . .Not them! Never them!"

0330 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

With a slight trepidation, Mac stepped back into the ready room locating a group of Marines who all stood at attention once she stepped in. "At ease."

Second Lieutenant Fields still didn't look pleased. "Ma'am, I assure you that your assistance is not needed. . .Respectfully, I would feel a whole lot better if you'd stay behind."

A team member, a Corporal by the name of Valdez, dared to speak up. "Yes, ma'am. . .Not for nothing because I have the outmost respect for women in uniform, but it might be better if you do stay behind."

Mac's eyebrow shot up as her arms came across her chest. It was her defensive posture, one that has, on many occasions, made the other party quite nervous. "I'll give you a chance to speak freely here. Is the problem that I am a woman?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, you're a lawyer." Fields said, his worry etched across his face. "Gender aside, legal weenies had a tendency to be. . .well, just that."

"Lieutenant, I'm a Marine first, lawyer second. . .That's the way I've always handled things. . .First to fight."

The group laughed at this. Somehow the idea of a lawyer going to battle was hysterical. A look from her had them quiet in seconds. Fields once again answered, "Have you even been in battle before?"

Ah, a loaded question if she ever heard one before. This was their way of asking about her kills. Sadly, most of them were classified so Mac's records never reflected her heroics. It was now her turn to laugh. "Lieutenant, I've been in such situations that would make the men of your squad piss their pants and go crying home to their mommy's. . .I've laid on a table, waiting to get tortured so that government secrets wouldn't be exposed. I've been shot once and still have the mark on my thigh to prove it. I have scars on my body that attest to being attacked – friendly fire – in the Afghani desert. . . I've shot a terrorist on US soil, in cold blood. . .Oh, and just for shits and giggles, I can strip down an M16. . .blind folded. . .So do you still have any problems with me joining you?"

Fields grinned. "Since you put it that way. . . welcome aboard, Colonel, ma'am."

"In that case, what's the plan?" She motioned to a map that was affixed to the greenie board. "I assume we would want to go in quietly."

"Yes, ma'am. . .Right now we're waiting for the Guadalcanal. We need the extra Marine power if things are as bad as they appear to be." He pointed at a spot on the map and then ran his index finger across to another. "It's not too far away. . .We'll have a COD drop us as close as possible and use the CRRC to go the rest of the way. . .By the time we arrive the Guadalcanal should be making a Rendezvous with the Henry. On our mark, it shouldn't take them more than two, maybe three hours tops to provide support."

Mac glanced at the map, feeling this instant pull to the spot that Fields had his finger on. _He's there._ _Harm's there._ She took a deep breath and shook her thoughts. Now it was time to plan, not worry. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, spaced out for a moment there."

"You must care an awful lot to go through all of this, ma'am." He pointed out with a sad smile. "I promise, if Captain Rabb is on that island, we're getting him out." Motioning with his hands, he waved over his group and ordered them to have a seat. "If you don't mind, Colonel, you should sit down for this."

Soon Captain Loftness, Keeter and the XO joined them along with the COD pilot and two F-14 teams. Fields leaned against the greenie board as Loftness addressed the group. "Alright, all of our preparations are in place. . .The Guadalcanal is coming, full speed ahead, to our current location. . .They believe that the arrival time should be in about two hours. . ." He took a pen and marked the spots on the map again. "We are here." Loftness pointed. "Our target is here. . . The idea is to have the COD go out and drop you boys. . .and girl." He grinned at Mac. "As close as we can without detection. . .For that reason, I've decided to use two F-14s as a – distraction, if you will. . .If the MIGs are up in the air, we'll give them something to play with. . .Once Second Lieutenant Field's group radios in, we'll have more Marines in place, we're raiding that island and getting our boys home. . . Any questions?"

"No, sir!" Chorused around the room.

"Alright, dismissed." All members came to attention, gave a firm, "Aye, aye, sir." And quickly went about their business.

Loftness waved Mac over. "I'm done trying to change your mind. . .So, get back to me in one piece, I still want you to check into this Vukovic thing when you head back."

"Understood, Skipper. . .When I get the Captain onboard, he'll need some time in Sickbay. . . I'll look into the Commander as thoroughly as I can."

He sighed deeply. "I have some disdain for the man. . .It goes way back. . .Thing is, I have a bad feeling about this and I'm usually right on those. . .A man like him doesn't belong in our Navy."

"I have the same types of feelings, Skipper. . .And, with all due respect, I have more of a reason to hate him if he did what I think he did." Her stomach tightened at the thought. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Keeter stepped in front of her as she was about to step through the hatch. "Mac. . .Be careful, will you?"

"I will, Jack. . .thanks."

Mac weaved her way through the expanses of the ship, finding the Marine squad getting their things together. Second Lieutenant Fields gave her a quick tutoring on how to use the gear. Several of the others offered pointers on how to survive a ride in the CRRC. "I've parachuted about six times." She reassured Fields who was more than a little worried about jumping out of the COD. Of course, she failed to mention that those jumps had been a good four years ago when she and an old bootcamp buddy had decided to take lessons for the fun of it.

"This is a night time jump, Colonel. . .On the ride over we'll fill you in with all of the details. . .I am going to stick you with Sergeant Stone, you can call him Sticky."

"Sticky?" She couldn't help making a face.

Fields chuckled. "We gave him the name after he had a little accident with a tube of crazy glue and. . ." His face fell slightly, as he realized he was about to detail a sick prank to a woman AND a senior officer. "I'm sorry, ma'am. . .this is not an appropriate conversation. . .It's a bit dirty."

Mac scrunched up her nose. "My mind is filling in the missing elements. . .thanks."

"Past that, he's the best I have. . .Better than me. .. that boy will lead a team someday." He handed her a water proof map. "You and him will take the West side of the island. . .that's where that hut is. . .We'll be on channel 9 during the course of this mission. . .Remember to use your radio jamming device before speaking. . .Any questions?"

"Nope. . .Let's go." Before she had a chance to move, the phone inside the room buzzed and one of the Marines was quickly handing it to her. "Colonel MacKenzie." It was quite surprising to hear such an unwelcome voice over the line.

_("Colonel, this is Secretary of the Navy Caroline Hewitt. . .I order you to remain on board the USS Patrick Henry. . .If you disobey, charges will be brought up against you. . .I will strip you of your rank and your command. . .Do you understand?" _The voice said over the line, the threats bringing chills up Mac's back.)


	16. End Of A Heartache

I live to serve you guys. Actually, I don't but I am deciding to be nice today. ;) Dont get used to it. ;)

Jackie

**PART 16 - End Of A Heartache**

December 30, 2010  
0359 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

Removing the receiver from her ear, Mac glanced at it. News sure did travel fast. Especially when there was a definite rat on board with Lieutenant Commander oak leaves, a broken hand and a Commanding officer who was going to make sure that he paid for every little deed he'd ever done. She pressed the receiver back to her ear. "Colonel MacKenzie. . .Hello? Lance Corporal, are you absolutely sure that it was for me?" She was playing it for all she was worth, hoping it sounded real enough. What she really wanted to do was send the SECNAV to hell, but the ramifications would go up too many ladders and if she was going down, that was fine, so long as no one else suffered.

Mac shrugged her shoulders and replaced the receiver. "Let's get out of here." She was practically shoving the men out of the room, all other rings from the phone were ignored.

The team headed up the stairwells until they arrived at the flight deck. The COD was being taxied towards the area where they were to board. An Ensign without cranials was running to them, yelling at the top of his lungs for Mac. "Colonel, the SECNAV is requesting to speak to you."

Fields heard the man and glanced down at Mac. "I didn't hear that, ma'am." He smiled at Mac and helped her into the COD. "Let's go boys. . .Double time!"

Despite all of the previous times when she'd been shot off of the carriers, her body never really enjoyed it. "Ugh." Mac said out loud as she was pushed back into her seat. Moments like these, she could appreciate what pilots went through. Seconds later, the two Tomcats which would provide a distraction were shot off.

The ride, itself, sucked, though you couldn't tell that to Mac. She was happy to be onboard, ecstatic to be helping. She would find Harm, she knew she would. The only thought that saddened her was this nagging feeling that he was hurt. . .or worse. "No." She said softly and turned her head to look forward. There was nothing to see out of the windows. Nothing but the blackness of the sea on a moonless night.

As they were nearing the drop zone, the COD was shaking violently. "This is a mother of a storm." The plane's pilot said over the intercom. "We need to make the drop now."

Fields sighed, he preferred they got a little closer. "Alright, strap in, let's get ready to rock." He nodded towards Mac. "Ma'am, Sticky and you will be just fine. . .We'll see you when we rendezvous."

"Semper Fi, Lieutenant." Mac said adjusting her back and M16.

"Semper Fi, Colonel." Fields saluted her, then ordered Sticky to head towards the cargo ramp which was slowly lowering.

Mac's heart was thundering against her chest. Despite parachuting a few times before, those were all done in the day time, with her strapped onto the instructor. This time . . . "Jesus." She said softly as the blackness of the area seemed to engulf her. It didn't help that the light inside of the plane was an ominous looking green. "C'mon Marine, you can do this. . .You have to." She nodded towards Sticky. It was now or never.

"See you down there, Colonel. . .I promise, it will be alright. . .Just follow my light." He yelled, then took a few steps down the ramp, quickly disappearing.

If she wasn't so scared, Mac was sure she'd throw up all over the place. As it was, her body was shaking too much to do anything but shimmy forward. The drop was like a reoccurring nightmare in which she was free falling into the darkness. A hard jerk assured Mac the chute had opened properly. Quickly, she located Sticky's green glowstick descending just below her. Making the proper adjustments, she moved the risers and followed along. Thankfully, they were falling into the water, any thoughts of hitting hard soil and destroying her ankles could be put to rest. Drowning though, was a real fear and she couldn't help but think of Harm's ordeal in 2001.

Mac held her breath as she touched down into the water. She went down slightly, then began to bobble up. Hitting the clasp for the chute harness, she let it fall away from her as she swam towards Sticky who was yelling for her. "Helluva ride, huh?" He said, then pulled out the handles to inflate a small rubber craft. "This is not as nice as the other CRRC, but it'll get the job done. . .I'm hoping you can row. . .we want to go in quietly." He climbed onboard, then offered Mac a hand, bringing her up with him.

"I'm a fast learner, Sergeant. . .Hand me the oar." The storm was easing down some, the droplets barely falling as the pair took their seats in the CRRC, right in the center. Mac placed the oar between her legs, then reached inside her pack to retrieve two pairs of night vision goggles.

Sticky took his pair from her and then pulled out a GPS and made sure it was secured on the proper waypoint. "That way." He pointed just to the side of them, picked up his oar and started rowing towards that direction. "Alright, Colonel, row with me."

A camping trip to Vermont with Chloe familiarized Mac with the art of rowing. Of course, then it was a canoe, on a small river without tides, currents or hellacious waves. They were not getting rained on, the drops falling into your eyes so that you couldn't see. This was an exercise in muscle resistance. Sticky kept a furious pace which Mac matched, row by row. It was hell on her arm and back muscles, not even five minutes in and they were already burning, pleading for her to stop. She refused and kept pushing herself, the thoughts of rescuing Harm kept her going.

It wasn't until an hour later, when a distinct outline emerged from the blackness before them. "Mountains." Sticky whispered, checked his GPS again and began rowing towards the area with much more force. "When we get to the beach, we need to hide the CRRC."

_If we're not shot and killed first._ Mac thought with a grunt. True, it was obvious that they were coming in undetected. No aircraft or watercraft had been launched towards their direction. She assumed the storm was probably keeping them at bay. As they neared the island, the waves crashing on the beach resounded in their ears like a sweet song. They stopped rowing, allowing for Sticky to time their movements along with the waves. "Now, go." He ordered and Mac complied, moving at a much faster pace.

Before long, they had made landfall, the two ducking down behind the CRRC as they scanned the area, M16s in hand. "Over there." Mac pointed to the right and a rather large rock which seemed the perfect place to hide the rubber boat. They dragged the CRRC behind the rock and quickly removed their wet suits to find the BDUs beneath semi-dry.

Mac tied the ends of a black bandana behind her head and slipped the other portion through. It helped keep her locks at bay. She and Sticky looked more like mercenaries than Marines dressed in all black BDUs. "Let's radio the team before we head out." She said, pulling out a light weight radio and handing it to Sticky.

The other team was still in the ocean, quietly rowing until they found the ideal spot to make land fall. They had already radioed the Henry and one of the Marines had taken digital photography of the areas they had managed to spot. The rest of the mission was to commence and an agreed radio black out would be in place until further notice. "Radio blackout?"

(Fields sighed over the line. _"Yes, Colonel. . .The LHA is late. . .so, from now on out, we wait.")_

"Wait for what exactly?"

(_"For night to fall again.")_

It wasn't light out, not yet, but it would be soon and that was dangerous for everyone on the team. A mission of this caliber needed to be done in the cover of night. "Roger, Lieutenant. . .Sticky and I are going to proceed as instructed. . .So far, no hostiles in the area. . .I haven't seen the hut yet."

(_"Good luck, Colonel._ . ._Fields, out."_)

Mac placed the radio into Sticky's pack, shut off the jamming device and took a good look around. Even with night vision, she couldn't find anything useful. "Colonel. . .Eleven O'Clock." She turned slowly and made an adjustment to the goggles. Once she did the clear image of a man came into view.

"That's not the Captain." She whispered, knowing Harm's form utterly too well. Hell, she had spent nearly a decade pinning over him. "Cover me." Without warning, Mac bolted out from behind the rock and began moving up the beach, ducking behind vegetation.

She felt Sticky's gaze on her and was sure he was not pleased with the current situation. Too bad, she was the Senior Officer, he wasn't going to argue. "Damnit." He whispered his displeasure, then quickly followed suit, trying to keep up.

It wasn't too long before the pair came up on the elusive hut and its location partially inside a tropical forest. Mac hit the sand, crawling on her belly as the light from inside shone through the area she was headed towards. She could sense Sticky crawling up behind her. "See anything?" He whispered.

"The man just went back inside." She removed the night vision goggles, clipping them onto a strap on her pack. "Let's wait a few minutes and then we'll take a closer look."

"We don't know if they're armed. . .Go slow."

The longer she stared at the hut, the more she wanted to stand and run in recklessly. Mac _knew_ Harm was in there, she could feel it in her gut, on her skin. The anticipation was killing her. When the lights inside dimmed, she knew it was the perfect chance to get in, deal with the others and get Harm out. "Now, Sergeant. . .It's time." She crawled through the sand some more, coming to stop at the ramp which served as the method to ascend towards the hut. With hand movements, Sticky signaled that he was to go in first and Mac was to bring up the rear. She didn't like it, but he did this for a living while her battles were fought only in courtrooms.

Ascending the ramp quietly proved to be too easy a feat. Whatever it was made of, cushioned the sounds of their boots. _He's here._ Were those his captors? It couldn't be. . .something was certainly out of sorts. Sticky placed his back against the wall just to the left of the door. Raising his hand, he signaled that it would be three seconds until they made their way inside. This part was crucial to the mission and detrimental to the others if they made too much noise.

3. 2. 1. He counted down, then turned towards the door, kicking it open. "Don't move." His voice was low and calm. His weapon immediately pointing towards Ella.

Mac was kneeling at the door taking aim at the man while Sticky took aim at the woman. "Keep your hands where we can see them." To her surprise neither the woman, nor the man yelled or seemed worried by their sudden predicament. They merely raised their hands, placed them behind their heads and then kneeled down, execution style, as if it were a normal routine.

This gave Mac the chance to scan the room quickly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw _him._ "Harm." She whispered, then swallowed hard. Quashing her need to run to his side was one of the most difficult things she'd ever done. But until everything was secure, it was not safe for anyone.

"Sarah?" The woman was staring as if she knew Mac. But, that couldn't be. When she turned towards the man, "God has answered our prayers, Connor, that's Sarah." Mac was sure that things _really_ weren't as they seemed. Harm wasn't a hostage.

"How do you know my name?" She asked, her voice a whisper. Something about this situation was truly awkward. "Tell me." Mac stood slowly, keeping her weapon pointed at the couple as she neared them. "How do you know who I am?"

The woman motioned towards Harm. "Mack calls your name in dreams. . . Search him. . .In his pocket he has a picture I drew for him when he described you."

"Sergeant, keep that weapon on them." She kept her own raised, not turning her back until she was positive they weren't going to try anything funny. "I'm going to go check on the Captain." Moving sideways, she traversed the hut, keeping the weapon trained on them. "No funny moves." Finally, she lowered her weapon and slung it onto her back. Coming to her knees next to Harm, she couldn't resist any longer. "Oh, Harm." She removed her gloves, tossing them to the side so she could press her hands to his face. "C'mon flyboy, wake up."

Connor removed his hands from the back of his head and kept them in front of him as a sign that he was unarmed. "Mack's been in and out of consciousness. . .Somehow he managed to cut his leg. . .He's had a fever. . .I'm sure it's infected."

"He's burning up." She winced, then turned to the pair which was still on their knees. Her hands brushed over his face and the stubble that couldn't be more than a few days old.

"We _have _helped him . .But, there's only so much you can do without real medicine." Reaching down, Connor helped his wife stand, both of them still keeping their hands where Sticky could see them. "We're not dangerous, I promise. . ." He pointed at Harm. "Mack's. . .well, he's had a few problems."

"Mac?"

"Yes. . .He kept saying Mack and Sarah. . .We just assumed his name was Mack. .. His dogtags, they said something else. . .Harmon. . .Rabb something." Ella said, cautiously nearing the pair on the floor. "We won't hurt you, I promise."

Mac nodded, then waved for Sticky to put his weapon down. "It's alright Sergeant. . .They're telling the truth." She could feel it in her bones, these were people she could trust. "His name _is_ Harmon Rabb. . ._My_ name is Mac." Reaching into her BDUs, she produced her dogtags and handed them to the woman. "I'm Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. . . Mac's my nick name, it's what he usually calls me." She turned back to him and frowned.

Without any words, she pulled the M16 off of her, placed it next to Harm and then removed her pack. Searching through it, she located the first aid kit. There wasn't anything in it that could really stop an, but the aspirin would help with the fever. "Do you have any water?"

Ella nodded. "Yes, it's one of the only things that we do have in supply. . .it's always raining here." She motioned for Connor to bring the water over and then handed it to Mac. "I'll help you. . .If you want me to that is."

The couple ended up being quite hospitable to the two Marines. Ella, with Mac's blessing, had helped get the aspirin down as well as clean and re-bandage the gash on his leg. "Now we wait." Mac said with a sigh, leaning against a wall, and remaining at Harm's side.

"Can you tell us what is going on here?" Sticky asked, curiosity finally getting the best of him. "This. . .all of this looks like a set to some. . .castaway movie. . .It's surreal."

Connor glanced around and grinned. It certainly would make a helluva set for a movie about castaways. "First, introductions are in order. . .I'm Connor Gerard and this is my wife Ella Gerard."

"Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. . .Or Mac." She half smiled and then pointed at Sticky. "That's Sergeant Richard Stone. . ."

"They call me Sticky." He said with a shrug and then added more for his benefit than anything else. "Don't ask. . .Not a good story."

The couple laughed nervously. "Well, I guess. . .we are castaways of a sort. . .On the other side of this island there is a military base. . . It's run by a group called Neroli."

Mac and Sticky glanced at each other sharply. Things were starting to blur again and the tension, which was vanishing, once again swooped into the room. "And they just allow you to share their island?"

Connor shook his head. "No. . .It's not that simple. ." Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes. Damnit, sometimes this made him want to cry. The predicament was awful and, worst of all, he'd sucked his beloved into it. "I guess, I'll start at the beginning. . .When I was just twenty, I was hired to work for building planes for a rather powerful company. . . I was one of the youngest avionic engineers in the world. . . We designed several planes for the US Air Force, Navy, Marines. . .I also did some work with planes in Sweden and the UK. . . That's where I met Ella, she was one of the youngest _female_ avionic engineers." He smiled at his wife and took her hand.

"About five or six years ago, I became involved with Neroli. . .Not because of money, I wouldn't have taken it had I known exactly what they were doing. . . They threatened me. . .threatened my wife. . ."

"Why didn't you go to someone? The FBI, the CIA?" Mac asked, but she knew what the answer would be. Things were never really that simple.

Connor's face fell. "I was afraid of what they would do to me. . .to us. . .Neroli said they had the evidence to make it look like we were selling government secrets. . .I should have gone to someone, but I wanted to protect my wife and myself . . So, I sold my soul to them and made the group's leader promise that they wouldn't hurt Ella. . .That they'd leave her alone." He swallowed hard, tears forming in his eyes. "I didn't know that they'd taken her already. .. That they wanted the _both _of us."

"They took us away from the States and to wherever this is." Ella said, glancing around the hut. "The first time we set foot on this island was at that base, in a hangar with several MIGs that had been bought on the black market. . .They wanted us to fix them, make them better. . . When we refused, Connor spent a good week on a stretcher. . .They worked him over something good, broken a rib and threatened. . .God, they threatened to do worse to me. . .so we gave in for self preservation. . . We didn't know what they were doing. . .What they wanted to do until. . .until they began capturing pilots."

Mac didn't quite follow. "Capturing pilots?"

Connor nodded. "They would go to the ports of call, find pilots that were washing out for some reason or another and brainwash them. . .Have them join Neroli and fight for a greater good. . .Everyone in Neroli worked for the US Military at some point."

Sticky and Mac glanced at each other again, disgust evident by the looks on their faces. "How could someone do that? How could you just turn on your country?"

Ella sighed. "Easily. . . If you are kicked when you are down, it's sometimes easy to see things in another perspective. . .thought, that perspective isn't exactly the best."

"Why aren't you living on the base?"

"We were once." Connor stood, then leaned back against one of the walls and brought his arms across his chest. "That was until they realized we'd done all we could. . .They banished us here. . .to this prison of sorts. . .We don't know where we are, so they know we can't escape."

Sticky glanced around at the home once again. "You've been here a while if you could build this place."

"We have, yes. . .Too long, if you ask me."

Mac frowned, this was horrible. How could anyone just pick people up like toys? It was disgusting. "Do they ever come here?"

"For a while they would regularly drop food, clothing, medicine. . .Not anymore. . .Sometimes, I think they are hoping we die." He motioned towards Harm. "When Mack. . .I'm sorry, Harm. . .When Harm arrived, I thought for sure they would trek the island looking for him. . .apparently they don't know he's here. . ."

The back of her hand ran gently against Harm's forehead. The fever was going down some, though Mac knew, without real medication, it wouldn't go down permanently. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"Pardon the personal question, but are you two involved?" Ella asked, receiving a stern look from her husband and the Sergeant.

She didn't even bother denying it. "Yes. . .He was my best friend and working partner. . .We were both lawyers for the Judge Advocate General Corps. . .Now, he's a reservist, flying jets for the Navy. . . And we've become something more than just friends." Mac gave the three a shy smile.

Ella stared at her husband. If this woman was as close to Harm as she thought, then maybe it was time they revealed something else about his condition. "There's something else you should know. . .He. . ." Amnesia sounded like something out of a soap opera, it had to be phrased another way. "He doesn't remember anything."

"What?" The wind rushed out of Mac almost as if she'd been punched in the gut. "What doesn't he remember?"

At first, Ella sometimes wondered if Harm had been lying to them in order to protect secrets. But, as time went on, she would see the set of his jaw and that look of frustration in his eyes. He really didn't know who the hell he was. She wondered if he even cared to know. If he had a woman like Mac waiting for him, maybe it was time to get that memory back. "He doesn't remember a thing. .. he doesn't know who he is. .. He doesn't know who you are, except that he sees you in dreams."

"And nightmares." Connor pointed out with a frown. "Sometimes he'd told me that you were in his nightmares as well."

That didn't sit well with Mac. She wasn't too sure what she'd to if his only memories of their relationship were on past wrong doings – hers or his. It would be unfair and cruel to start at the beginning with him again. God, she just couldn't imagine him forgetting everything. What about his family? His friends? Mattie? Her? Did he really forget her too? She studied the countdown on her watch, which was thirty seconds slower than her internal clock, and sighed deeply. "As soon as we get him out of here, we'll get him help."

Sticky frowned. "Colonel, ma'am. . .Think we can get these folks out of here as well?" The Sergeant motioned towards the couple whose story had moved him. They didn't deserve to spend the rest of their lives on this god forsaken island, especially if they were caring as best as possible for one of their own.

Mac glanced up at a hopeful Connor and Ella. "That can be arranged, yes."

The hours they had spent in the home of the Gerard's were quite pleasant, despite the current situation. Rain had been an issue though, it really never stopped raining. Through the night and the day, the five of them had remained indoors, Connor being the only one who knew the woods well enough to bring back fruits for his new guests. Mac had never left Harm's side, save for two bathroom breaks. Sticky almost had to force her to eat something.

It was exactly an hour after the sun set when the Sergeant's radio came to life. "Colonel? Lieutenant Fields ma'am. . ." Sticky handed the radio over to Mac and then stepped back to his post by the window.

"Thank you, Sticky." She took the radio and pressed the button to speak. "Lieutenant this is Colonel MacKenzie, I've found the Captain. He's in need of immediately medical attention. . .How are things on your end?"

(The Lieutenant's response was so low she could barely hear_. "It's busy, ma'am. . . There's a whole world over here. . .I've been in contact with the LHA, the teams should be here shortly. . .will you be ready to move in thirty minutes?")_

Thirty minutes? Hell, she was ready to go _now_. "I wish it were sooner, but yes. . .We'll be ready."

(_"Good I'll call in the extraction for three. . .The helo will land directly in your area."_)

"No, Lieutenant, it's a long story, but make it five. . .There are two people here who may be of help."

(_"I'll let them know. . .Be on the lookout. Right now there should be a landing party heading our way. . .We're going to contain as much of this damned island as we can."_)

"You'll have no arguments from me there, Lieutenant. . .Let's just get this done and get our boys home." Mac put the radio down, leaving it and the jamming device on, just in case. She stared down at Harm, frowning. "Hold on, flyboy. . .We'll be home soon enough." His breathing had slowed a bit too much for her liking, but she knew he would make it through this, he always did. He had to. "Sticky, I'm going to need you to carry him for me. . .I will give you cover."

She didn't make it an order, but he still obeyed, trusting that she would keep them safe. "Aye aye, ma'am." He pulled out a pistol from his holster and handed it to Connor. "Mr. Gerard, just in case. . .Do you know how to use it?"

Connor eyed the gun suspiciously. Despite their work in military aircraft – potential war weapons – he wasn't a fan of arms. "I've shot once or twice. . .It's not up in my favorites list." He smiled weakly and glanced at Ella who seemed terrified. "It's just for protection."

"If they find out. . .We're never going to leave this island alive." She told him and was startled to find Mac handing over her own pistol.

"You're going to leave this island alive. . .And you're going to fight for your survival. . .for your future if you need to." Mac cocked the weapon, put the safety on and placed it in front of the woman. "Push that button on the side, that's the safety. Then, just point and shoot." She walked back towards Harm and reached over to the bed above him, grabbing the sheets. "Sticky, help me here, I want to keep that leg wrapped and as clean as possible. . .Ella, Connor. . .grab anything that you need, it won't be long now."

On the other side of the island, Second Lieutenant Fields and his team were thankful to view through their night vision goggles, five teams on five CRRCs heading towards the island. "Brenner, make sure everyone is ready, I want the team up here, ASAP. . ." They'd been hiding all night and day under the canopy of tropical foliage which rested adjacent to a high peak. There were guards in the area, men that his group had picked off one by one and replaced. With the aid of new gadgets, they managed to spot all of the surveillance equipment on the island. As good as these people seemed to be, they were no match for the Marines. Still, it shouldn't have been that easy.

He shut down the radio which had been used to communicate with Mac and opted to use the communication device on his throat which kept him in touch with his team. "Brenner, has the team landed?"

_("Yes, sir."_ Corporal Leslie Brenner said, keeping his voice a low whisper.)

"Make sure they are all on channel 13, we move in three minutes." He was confident that the teams knew what to do. The people on the Henry had spent enough time going over a perfectly planned attack. There would be six groups, all going in different directions and, ultimately, surrounding the base. "This is Alpha Leader. . .Group Beta one is present and accounted for." He said over the radio, taking another look around to make sure his six men team was near him. "Beta two, check in."

(_"Alpha Leader, Beta Two, check. All present and accounted for.")_

"Beta three, check in." The checks to each group continued until all six registered back. Fields glanced up at the base once more, it was a good four football fields away, but through his binoculars, he could almost reach out and touch it. "Alright men. . .move out." He waved an arm over his head and the group began moving.

This was the moment most Marines lived for, the thrill of the hunt, of taking back something that belonged to them. Taking out the bad guys. The terrain was almost as unforgiving as trekking through a South American rain forest. That would have been more welcomed than needing to stop every other two minutes to disengage the booby traps on the island. Fields knelt down next to a trip wire and unearthed the charge which was connected to it. "The charges aren't new. . .at best, ten years old or so." He disassembled it and waved his group to continue.

All in all, it had taken all six groups a good twenty minutes to arrive into position. He relayed that information back to the Henry and the LHA, asking that the helo's be kept out of sight until the mission was completed. Fields made a final check with all of the teams and then cut them loose. With a 'rat-tat-tat' sound, the war began. The teams had been ordered to change the ammo and use tranquilizers which had been specially built for the M16s. The juice would knock an average man out for a good two hours and then have him wake up with the hang over from hell. It was a governmental imperative to use newer "safe" methods of seizing certain places. You really couldn't stop mass attacks if the people you were going after were all dead. As for Fields and the others, they preferred real bullets.

The men guarding the base had no idea what hit them. One tried to remove the tranquilizing dart from his chest and passed out a second later. Another fell from the top wall of the base and certainly died on impact. Brenner managed to grab a man which held the keys to open the large metal doors. He held a gun to the man's head. "Open the doors or I'll kill you." Despite their want to fight for the dark side, most of the "men" were actually kids, no more than twenty two years of age, with a need for adventure, a hatred for their nation and a want to live. You couldn't buy bravery at any cost.

Groups five and six were heading to the other side of the base, running down the long runway and towards the hangar. They took enemy fire, one of their own was shot and killed. Vowing to return for the man's body, the groups continued onward, managing to stop a crew before a MIG was sent up in the air. "McMichaels, Howell, secure the hangar. . .I don't want any of those birds up in the air." The team leader, Staff Sergeant Collins, ordered as his team proceeded. They came to the edge of the hangar and a set of metal stairs which led up to a door. "Rivers, Aceveda, go skyward." He pointed up to the door and higher still.

The men shot off a set of hooks and expertly made it up the side of the wall. The rest of Collins' team headed up the steps, Collins using a small charge to destroy the door. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!" He yelled and the men filled into the room, shooting down three men that were sitting in a control center of sorts.

"Room secured, sir." One of the men called and they soon fell into formation, moving swiftly to the next room.

Downstairs, Fields' team as well as the three remaining teams had entered the compound and were, one by one, securing all areas. The place had the same feel of walking into the Pentagon save for the overly bright lighting and stark white walls and the doors which were made out of some metal of sorts. He came up to a door with a security pad attached to it. Grabbing the kid that Brenner had been using to get around the place, he shoved him towards the pad. "Open it."

"I can't!" The man yelled, deathly afraid of what was to come if he didn't comply. He was telling the truth, only a select few were allowed into selected areas. "I don't have the pass code."

Fields waved over one of his men. "Jeffries, Use the code breaker." The man pulled out a small device and set it over the pad. Within seconds the door slid open. The men filed inside only to find a room full of computers and a scared looking kid pointing a gun at them. "Drop the weapon." Fields said, pointing his own M16 at the boy. "Now."

The kid pulled off a shot, one that went long and hit their hostage. It was then that two team members rushed to the young man, knocking him to his feet and effectively disarming him. "Ah! Let me go! Let me go!"

Glancing around the area it was clear to just about anyone that this was the brains, the place where everything technological happened. Above the wall of computers was a row of screens, one of them showing what appeared to be a holding cell. "Where is this?" Fields said, pointing at the screen. When the kid didn't reply, he grabbed him by the hair, lifting him up despite the yells of pain. "Where the HELL is this!"

"Here. . .Just press that red button. . .You'll need the pass code."

Jeffries pulled out the code breaker once again and made quick work of the remaining doors. The group filed in behind, still holding the kid hostage. The pilots inside the room quickly came to their feet. They could hear the commotion outside, but never believed they'd live to see this. "I've never been so happy to see a Marine." One of the Navy pilots said with a hysterical laughter.

Fields tossed them each a weapon. "Sirs, let's get the hell out of here."

"You'll get no argument here, Lieutenant." The men walked out with the team which had met up with two of the other groups just outside the door.

"Let's get these zoomies out of here. . .Brenner, contact the helo. . .Todd, Cohen, O'Reily. . .With me. . ." Fields pulled out the map which the Aurora had managed to secure. Technology had improved to a ridiculous level when it came to missions, that was one thing he was grateful for.

Former Captain David Cage sat inside their situation room, watching the larger than life screens as the scenes unfolded. He would be killed for this, no doubt. When Admiral Hensley had left him in charge of the base, it had been with a great trust. Then again, they never expected to be found, there was no reason for the US military to be this far away. Slowly, he turned his chair around, staring at the other six members in the room. It was organized chaos, each of them contacting the other sector of Neroli which was located in Europe. At least they were trying to, communication wasn't working. "It's obvious they took our communications, people, stop trying." He stood up, glanced at the screen which had a camera pointed at their door. It would be a minute or two before the Marines broke in and took them all.

Former Army Major Zachary Tomes came up to Cage with a steely expression. There were contingency plans in effect for this, things that they needed to do to protect the rest of their group. "Sir, it's time. . .We have to push that button."

Cage stared at the man as if he'd lost his mind. 'The Button' was just that, a big red button, inside a bullet proof housing which could only be opened by Cage. It would destroy the whole building and the secrets that lay within, including the personnel. All members of Neroli had taken a blood oath – you had to be willing to die. For Cage, this was just a bit more difficult. He hadn't signed up for this, for killing innocent people just because he didn't agree with United States' politics. What the hell was this all accomplishing? "No."

Tomes just stared. "No, sir?"

"You heard me Major. . .I said NO." He stood, arms across his chest in a defiant posture. "It's over. . .all of this is over."

"Respectfully, sir. . .I relinquish you of your duties. . .Give me the code."

"No. . .I said no. . .You'll have to kill me and if you did that, you wouldn't have shit."

Tomes removed a pistol from his holster pointing it directly at Cages' head. "Give me the codes, Sir!" When Cage didn't, the man pointed the pistol at his leg and shot off a round. "Next shot, I'll take something a little more important."

Cage had stumbled up against one of the screens, using it to hold himself back up. "I'm a SEAL, I can take pain. . .I can take this. . .and you aren't getting the codes."

"I'll get them." The crazy look in Tomes' eyes prepared Cage for his attack. Despite the pain, he managed to side step, slamming Tomes into one of the screens, cracking his head open.

It was this that Fields and the Marine walked in on. "Hands up all of you!" He yelled, taking aim at Cage. "Corporal. . .Put a round in each of them." The youngest member of his team shot his M16 one round at a time, the specialized tranquilizer bullets putting each man to sleep. "Not him." Fields said, pointing at Cage. "He's coming with me. . .O'Reily, contact the Seahawk. . .All secure."

On the other side of the island, Sticky sat against the window, using the night vision binoculars. "Where are you?" He said to no one, waiting impatiently for the helo to arrive.

Mac consulted her internal clock, frowning. "They should be here by now."

"Here they come!" Sticky stood up and quickly moved over to where Harm was. "I'll use a fireman carry, ma'am. . .He'll be safe."

"I'll cover you." Pulling up Connor and Ella, Mac motioned towards the door. "Wait for the Sergeant to walk out first, I'll bring up the rear. . .Don't be afraid to fire."

The four set out, quickly covering the land between the shoreline and the hut. As the helo neared, the sound of a machine gun quickly got Mac's attention. She felt a bullet whiz by them, but couldn't quite spot where the shots were coming from. "Hurry!"

Sticky was having trouble with the wet sand and the weight of Harm's body, though he was clearly taller and more muscular. The sand gave him no traction with his burden. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring that Ella and Connor managed to pass him and arrive at the helo first. Not seeing a rock, he fell to the ground, but didn't lose his grip on Harm. "Damnit." The sand around him was riddled with bullets and that is when he saw Mac out of the corner of his eye. "Ma'am, run!"

Mac was waving her arms at the helo, trying to get their attention. "The forrest. .. fire at the forrest!" She ran towards Sticky and took hold of one of his arms, which she placed over her shoulder. "Let's go Marine! Leave no man behind!" With as much force possible, she stood up, allowing the Marine to come to his feet.

Sticky began moving again, huffing his way towards the helo. Mac remained behind, with her back to the Sergeant, firing her M16 into the woods. It was when they were just twenty feet away from the helo that she felt a burning sensation in her right shoulder. "Ah!" She yelled, suddenly losing function in that arm. She tried to raise her rifle, but it was no use. "Hurry!" Grunting, she managed to arrive at the helo, one of the flight crew pulling her inside.

The aircraft swung into action, the pilot pointing its nose towards the forest and taking aim. Everything towards that area went up in flames and it was the last thing Mac saw before they swung around and moved out over the open ocean. Sighing, she turned her head to the side, watching as the medical crew went work on Harm. One of them, a younger woman, turned to Mac with a half smile. "Ma'am, we'll get him stable and then patch you up. . .You'll need an IV yourself."

"Is there enough for him?"

The woman checked the inventory and nodded. "There should be yes."

"I don't want to hear the words 'should be.' Is there or isn't there?" Mac said in a commanding voice, yelling over the sounds of the rotors.

"Yes, ma'am."

Using her good arm she raised her hand and waved them on. "Carry on." Glancing to her left, she saw Sticky watching her with a gleam in his eyes. "Helluva night, huh, Sergeant?"

"Yes, ma'am. . ." All Sticky could do was laugh. "If you ever get tired of being a lawyer, we have an empty spot on our team."

Mac chuckled and shook her head. "Thanks but no thanks. . .too much excitement." She had what she came for, now all she needed to do was get him home.


	17. Suffocating

Ooooh lewk! A cliffie... ye be warned. ;) This one WAS intentional. :D  
Either live with it or wait until I post part 18. ;)

Jackie

Part 17 – Suffocating

December 31, 2010  
0612 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Undisclosed Location

Loftness stood on the bridge, binoculars glancing out to the darkened skies. The first helo was coming in the one he knew carried two persons needing medical attention. No other news was given, no names, no ranks, nothing, just the need to have sickbay prepped. "Weather is picking up, Captain." The XO said, glancing out over the decks which were pitching violently. "It's going to be hell for them to land."

"Tell me something I don't know, XO." Loftness sighed deeply, this ride was getting worse before it would get any better. "Is sickbay ready?"

"Yes, sir. . .So far we only have the two wounded. . .And one dead." His head hung slightly, war wasn't fun, even for the diehards who had an itchy trigger finger. When all was said and done, it hurt. "Do you believe Colonel MacKenzie found Captain Rabb, sir?"

At that, Loftness had to chuckle. "Of that I have no doubt. . .I just hope he was alright when she found him. Although, I'm having a bad feeling about this." When the helo landed, those feelings weren't unfounded. He saw the medical crew step out first with a gurney. A gurney that Harm was lying on. "Shit." Next, one of the medical crew helped Mac step off of the transport. The way she was holding her arm, it was obvious that she too was hurt. "Damnit." And then there were the other two, who the hell were they? "XO, get your six down there, and figure out who those persons on my ship are." Yup, it was going to be a very long day.

Down below, the medical crew was racing Harm through the ship and into sickbay, Mac following closely behind, fighting the want to pass out. She'd lost a lot of blood during the trip back to the ship. "Move, move, move." They commanded anyone who stood in the way, as they winded down and entered sickbay.

Vukovic was still there, milking his broken finger for all that it was worth. If he was in sickbay, he wasn't locked up in his stateroom or worse, in the brig which Loftness was trying to stick him into. Bless the Navy doctors. His sleep was momentarily disrupted when, in the next room, he heard the commotion.

"Remove the bandaging from the leg." The doctor, Lieutenant Commander Jefferson Winchester said, pointing at one of the nurses on his staff. "I want to take a look inside the wound and make sure there isn't anything that's making the infection worse."

The team set themselves to cleaning the wound on Harm's leg, trying to remove any grime and debris before the doctor cut through the primitive stitching. The wound _was_ infected, yellow liquid oozed out and it was obvious that the skin just wasn't going to heal properly. With special eyewear, he took a good look inside the wound. "Aha." He said triumphantly, finding several pieces of metal shavings still inside. "Once we clean these up the Captain's body should start healing." He continued checking the wound, irrigating ever so often to make sure nothing was missed. Thankfully, the wound looked much worse than it was. Nothing major had been nicked and because the infection wasn't too bad, the leg would be saved.

Two curtains over, Mac lay on one of the beds, grimacing in pain as Doctor Lieutenant Missy Evans, a Naval reservist, fiddled with the bullet that was still lodged in her right shoulder. "Colonel, you really need pain medication, this is going to get worse before it gets any better."

Mac's face, which had turned a slight alabaster color, was covered with sweat. She'd handled the pain of a bullet before and though the pain was excruciating, there was nothing worse than having to walk around with a bullet in your thigh. "I've been through worse." She grunted out, taking a deep breath when Evans resumed the search. Remaining silent, she could hear the ongoing from Harm's procedure. Hearing the word 'stable' made her feel marginally better. Now all he had to do was remember and things could go back to normal. If there was even a chance at normal anymore. There were so many things to do, one of them being Vic's ass nailed to the wall. Something inside Mac told her that he was responsible. She could feel it with every fiber of her being, but that wasn't enough, she needed proof.

"Oooh, gotcha." Evans said, ends of a smile poking out from the surgical mask. Leaning in she showed Mac the bullet she was holding between forceps. "Congratulations, it's a girl. . .That means you can pass out now." She patted Mac on her good arm, then turned to place the bullet on the top of a metal cart while she retrieved the supplies to clean the wound.

Ever defiant, the Marie on her table wasn't going to budge. "I'll pass out when I can see him." She motioned over to the opposite side with a turn of her head. "I need to know he'll be alright."

"As the doctor, I can order you to stay put, but I doubt you are going to listen to me anyway. . ." Evans cleaned the wound, then stitched it closed. "I have to say, my admiration for the Marines went up a notch."

Mac chuckled. "Only a notch?" She bit her lower lip, the pain of sewing the wound was much, much worse than searching for the bullet. For some reason, the faint memory of the Appalachians came to her mind. Harm was standing in front of her, holding a flask full of bourbon. It had been sweet and cute, really, when he'd warned her of the liquor which he was about to pour into the wound to disinfect. To this day, that look on his face made her smile.

"Is it a good memory?" Evans asked. She'd been known for being a doctor with too much heart. The type that got too close to her patients and too involved. It was a good and bad thing for a doctor. The times when she'd lost those she'd worked on, it haunted her.

"Yes and no. . .It's complicated." God, was she using that word again?

Evans placed a patch over the wound and then motioned for the nurse to help her with Mac. "We're going to transfer you to another bed and wheel you just next door. I know you want to see your friend, but we have to wait for the doctor to finish."

Mac sighed. "Fine. . .I just don't want any type of medication until I see him. . ." She placed a hand on Evans'. "I mean it. . .For reasons I can't explain, I just need to see him."

"Okay, Colonel. . . No meds for now." The doctor requested the nurse made sure her patient was comfortable before the move. The nurse gave her a much needed sponge bath and then slipped Mac into comfortable clothing before helping her lay onto her new bed.

Relieved, Mac settled onto the bed and waited to be transferred to the adjacent room. Her relief, however, was cut short the moment she was rolled past Lieutenant Commander Vukovic. "What's he still doing in here?" She asked the nurse who promptly explained that he was issued intravenous pain medication which he'd had a bad reaction to. "Bad reaction my ass." Despite her protest, however, the doctor had approved it, therefore she, and every other senior officer onboard, had to keep their traps shut for the good of the Navy.

Once she was alone, she heard rustling on the bed next to hers which was separated by a stark, white curtain. "You disobeyed a direct order from the Secretary of the Navy, ma'am."

"Did I?" Out of all of the things she figured he'd say, this didn't rank up there. Somehow, she figured he'd be more concerned over his case, than her ongoing. "I wasn't aware that the SECNAV had ordered me to do anything."

Vic snorted. "Whatever, ma'am. . .So, does this mean you are going to spend most of your time in sickbay?"

"What's it to you, Commander?" She tried using a commanding tone but knew it wouldn't work, at the moment he had an agenda. If only she could figure out exactly what it was. This went far beyond an attraction or a want to be with her. Sure as hell, he didn't have that _drive_ that stalkers had, no, this had to be something more volatile.

"Nothing, just that, I can get you off of my six now, ma'am. . .Maybe have an impartial investigator, not one with an axe to grind." He was going against higher orders, ones given to him by the SECNAV, but he didn't care. The cheap shots made him feel better, even if they incriminated him more. Not that it mattered, Hewitt would get him off of the Arjan wrap if it ever got that far. Vic had a feeling, however, that whether she liked it or not, Mac would be taken off of the case once the investigation was finished. He only hoped that was soon, at the moment, her presence was suffocating.

Mac grinned, "If you're referring to the investigation: I ain't going no where." She said with a twang, then stood slowly and pulled back the curtain. "I know you did something. . .I know Arjan is dead because of you. . .And when I piece everything together, you can kiss your Naval career and your life goodbye because I am going to personally make sure you spend the rest of it doing hard labor in Leavenworth." She wrapped her hand around the rolling I.V. stand. She was weak, wobbly, but she had things to say and a man to see. "I can understand a beef with me, Vukovic, but Harm didn't do a damned thing to you."

With that, she turned away from him, slowly walking towards the second room where she knew Harm would be. There weren't quite as many people as before. Most of the nurses had left and the only person available was Doctor Winchester and a female nurse that was checking Harm's vitals. Turning, he saw Mac and smiled faintly. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"

Shrugging, she stepped closer. "I'll be fine. . .How's he?"

Winchester took one peak at the machines, making sure they were all working properly. "The infection is pretty bad, but I got out all of the shavings that were still inside his leg and irrigated. . .That should heal well."

"Will he be awake tomorrow?" She chewed on her lower lip in expectance. The sooner he woke up, the sooner she would know the extent of his memory loss. Something told her to worry and yet, another part of her had a memory of his crash into the Atlantic. He'd lost his memory then too, but it came back to him. At least then he hadn't forgotten her.

The doctor crossed his arms. "Truthfully, ma'am. . .I don't know. . .I've looked him over and everything else seems to be alright. . .He does have a high fever, which I hope to bring down. . .Waking up is really all up to him. . .If his body needs the rest it will remain shut down until he gets it. And, right now, he needs his rest. . .so do you." He pointed out with a half-smirk.

Mac nodded. "And I will rest. . .But, I need a favor. . Two actually." The doctor stared at her eerily, but then conceded, she was higher ranking after all. "First, the Lieutenant Commander next door either has to be in the brig or his stateroom, not here. . .From this area it's easier for him to give his guard the slip. . .I'm the JAG officer which is investigating him and until the investigation is completed and I've decided that he is of no risk to anyone, he needs to remain confined."

"I understand that ma'am, but he claimed to have suffered from the meds we gave him."

"That's a lie, Doctor. . .In fact, if you go and look at him, you'll find that Vuckovic is just fine. . .Second. . .Give me a little time with Captain Rabb. . .Five minutes is all I ask. In that time, you can release Vukovic. . .As whinny as this sounds, I can't have him near me. . .he will not allow me to rest and I am not in the position, at the moment, to be harassed by a junior officer who thinks he's God."

Winchester stared at her for a moment before conceding. "Alright, Colonel. . .I'll have the Lieutenant Commander moved back into his state room. . .Take your time with the Captain. . ." With that he turned, gave the Nurse a nod and both of them left the room.

Finally, Mac deflated, settling into a metal chair just next to Harm's bed. "Geez, we can't do things the easy way, can we?" She could imagine his voice, strong and teasing: _What fun would that be?_ Sighing, she reached over and placed a hand on his. "You have no idea how happy I am that you are safe. . .Memory or not, you're alive. . .That's all that matters. . .We'll work on the rest." She stood up slowly, then leaned in, giving him a peck on the lips. "I love you. . .I hope you don't forget that." Mac lingered a while longer, satisfied with his condition. He was looking better now, much better than when they found him. "Night, flyboy."

Holding onto the IV stand for support, she walked out of that room and to the other just a hatch away. She peaked inside, thankful that Vukovic was nowhere to be found. "Thank God." Wearily, she settled into the rack, careful not to yank the IV, she pulled the blankets over her and took a breath. Sleep came easily.

December 31, 2010  
1430 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

Mac was sitting in the officer's ward room, an area that was blocked off while she did her investigation. The two cups of coffee had stopped her head from pounding and it wasn't any fun walking around with an arm pinned to your body, but she was dealing. She was dealing much better than Harm who still hadn't woken up. Doctor Winchester had assured her that it was a good thing and that once he was stable, he'd be sent to Bethesda so that testing could be done had he not regained his memory. All of this waiting was suffocating her.

Sighing, she raised her head, finding one Airman James Benson standing at the hatch, wearing his brown shirt. He stepped in, walked towards the table she was using and came to attention. "Airman James Benson, reporting, ma'am."

"At ease, Airman, take a seat." Reaching to the center of the table, she placed a recorder. "You don't mind do you? Kinda difficult to write at the moment." She smiled gently when he nodded at her. From the way he was acting, she was sure that he knew something. This was definitely the right place to start. "Would you like something to drink, James?" Using his first name and being hospitable had always proved to be a good way to calm the subject down.

James' mouth opened and closed several times as he was unsure what he should do. He knew why he was called in and was afraid that he'd, somehow, be linked to Arjan's murder. "Coffee would be great, ma'am."

"Good." Mac stood, headed over to the area with the coffee pots and brought back another cup. She placed it on the table and poured coffee from the pot she already had there. "It's not the best coffee in the world, but it'll do." She smiled warmly at him, then reached forward and pressed the 'record' button. "Alright. . .For the record, please state your rank, name, job title and location."

"Airman James Benson, plane Captain on the USS Patrick Henry." His nervousness seemed to dissipate slightly, but he was still leery.

"James, I understand that you were Airman Vincent Arjan's bunkmate, is this correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"The night that he. . .went overboard." It was better than saying 'suicide', it softened the blow. "Where were you?"

"Vinnie and I were on the port side of the ship where one of the F-14s was tethered down. . .We were basically having a look around the plane, making sure everything on it was ready. . .See, the pilots and the RIOs, during wartime, sometimes sit inside the planes, on the deck and remain there until they are launched. This can take hours. . .I've seen crews even sleep _inside_ the plane until they launch."

Mac nodded. "Yes, I am aware of that. . .A friend of mine is a pilot." She nodded and sighed. They were much, much more than friends. And much more than lovers. Snapping out if it, she shook her head and then glanced up at the Airman. "Tell me what happened."

"Vinnie had this really. . .glazed look in his eyes. . .So I tried to get his attention and I had to shake him out of some. . .trance he was in."

"How long was he in this 'trance'?"

"I don't know. . .A minute maybe? Eventually he did snap out of it and went back to work. . .I was up on the plane when it happened. . .I was checking the ejector seat and Vinnie was down on the deck. . . That's when I heard the siren. When I stepped back down, I realized that Vinnie was gone." He stared at the cup of coffee as if it held answers to what he was looking for. "No one pushed him, Colonel. . .So that leaves one solution. . .he jumped off."

"James, did Arjan have any problems? Anything out of the normal that he told you about?"

James shook his head. "Not really, but he did take Captain Rabb's mishap seriously. . .I mean, I guess you have to if it's your ass. . .uh, six on the chopping block. . .They are taking forever on that investigation and, you know, I think he was afraid he did something wrong. . .or forgot something." He shrugged. It was a big fear, especially at the rate they were working with such little time off.

"Did he say anything about the Captain's plane? Any speculations?"

The Airman took a sip of his coffee and settled back into the chair. This was a touchy subject and something that he didn't want to really discuss with anyone. God knows that with Loftness' iron fist, it was possible that he'd be brought up on charges. "Off the record?"

Mac shook her head. "I can't do that, Airman. . .This is very important."

"Fine. . .I just don't want to get into trouble." James sighed deeply. "The night of Captain Rabb's mishap, Vinnie was acting really weird." He trailed off, his mind racing back in time to the on goings in the hangar bay.

"Weird how?"

"Well, our group of plane captains, we work out together, shoot the breeze, unwind. . .We usually do this in the hangar bay. . .That night Vinnie was just. . ._not_ Vinnie. . .He was pretty pissed off. . kept beating the pulp out of the punching bag. . .He hit it so hard that it was knocked off of its anchor." James sat up and rested his elbows on the table. "So I riled him up a bit. . .I didn't do it on purpose, I just. . .you know, as a captain you take it seriously, too seriously when something happens to a plane. . .and Vinnie was. . .he was a wreck about it. . .So I started joking with him, trying to ease the mood. . .You know? Stupid sailor jokes."

"Go on."

The look on James' face changed completely. It wasn't as animated as it was when he was telling the tale. Now, it was harder, worried. . .scared. "I might have pushed him too far. . .We ended up having a. . .well, we had a pretty big tussle. . .worked him over pretty good. .. But, Vinnie, he didn't go to anyone. . .not even sickbay." But, there was one thing, one detail that James never understood. "The oddest thing was that. . .after I knocked him down, he thanked me. . .told me that he had it coming." He frowned, finished off his coffee and stared directly into Mac's eyes. "You know, now that I think about it, that whole week he was acting odd. . .Like something was buggin' him. . .He was a di. . .I mean, a pain. . ."

Mac took a breath then asked the one thing she needed confirmation on. "Do you think that Airman Arjan could have tampered with Captain Rabb's plane?"

A white pallor transcended over James' face. As much as he wished his friend wasn't , the truth was, he wasn't sure. "Ma'am, normally I'd say that there wasn't a chance in hell that Vinnie could have. . .But, the way he was acting. . . Something had to have bothered him badly. . .I just can't understand why he would have. . .Captain Rabb was a stand up guy, ma'am. . .Not some jerky officer."

She understood all about 'jerky officers', during her time at JAG and in the Marines, she'd rubbed elbows with a lot of men and women that shouldn't wear a military uniform. "Okay, That's all for now James, if something else comes up, come see me. . . Please send in the next person waiting."

The next person to step inside was a young woman, pretty, with dark blond hair and brown eyes. The woman came towards Mac's table and stood at attention. "Seaman Andrea Chambers, reporting as ordered, ma'am."

After going through the usual hoopla and trying to get the woman comfortable, Mac settled in for the questioning. On the norm, Mac had no reason to call the woman if it wasn't because of the rumors that she and Arjan were an item. "Seaman, what can you tell me about the way Airman Arjan handled Captain Rabb's accident?"

"Well, he got closed off. . ." She fidgeted, toying with a fake piece of lint on her slacks.

"Was he normally closed off?"

Andrea glanced up, then away, shaking her head. "No. . .No he wasn't. . .At least, not up until a week or so before the Captain's plane malfunctioned. . .That week he was a real creep. . ." Reaching for a napkin, she took it and wiped at the tears which were starting to form in her eyes. It was difficult for the ship to hear about Arjan's suicide, but it had affected her the worst in particular.

Mac frowned, her mind going to the man she loved, who was just a few decks below. She knew Harm was well liked and knew that what had happened affected the ship tremendously. She just needed proof, something that would stick. "I know this is difficult, Andrea. . .I'll try to finish quickly. . .Did Airman Arjan say anything to you? Maybe something to make you believe he was angry at the Captain?"

She shook her head. "No ma'am. . .Vinnie always liked Captain Rabb. . . Ma'am, I know that there are investigators on board, I know they are looking for something with what's left of the plane. . .Vinnie couldn't have done it."

"I believe that, maybe, someone made him do it, Andrea. . . If that is the case, I want to go after who it was. . .I want to stop them and maybe clear Vincent's name."

Andrea nodded. "Sometimes I think he had something to do with it. . .Or he forgot something and that caused the accident. . .Then there was the stuff he said in a note. ."

Note? "What note?" Mac interrupted, staring at Andrea with a look of disbelief. When the woman didn't answer, she applied a little more pressure. "Seaman, did Airman Arjan leave _you_ a note?"

"Yeah, he did leave one for me." She took a breath and pulled a white piece of paper out of her pocket, then slid it across to Mac. "Vinnie and I were. . ._close._ . .I know we're not supposed to be but. . .I really couldn't help it. . .Sometimes it's difficult to help it." She smiled sadly, then wiped at a tear that ran down her cheek.

Carefully, Mac read over the note. _"Andrea, I always promised I'd never lie to you and that was exactly what I did anyway. . .I'm sorry about this last week when I blew you off. . .And I am sorry for the future. . .Please know, it wasn't my intent to hurt you. . .I love you. . .Please forgive me for everything that I did. . .Forgive me for what I'm about to do. . .Tell them it wasn't my fault. . .Tell them that he made me do it. . .All my love, Vincent."_

"I didn't know what he meant, ma'am. . .I'd found that note before. . .before he. . .." She was full out crying now, shoulders heaving with each sob. "I loved Vinnie, but I was so angry for the way he treated me that, I didn't think anything of it. . .I didn't know he was saying 'goodbye.' I could have stopped him(.) I should have."

Reaching across the table, Mac placed a hand on Andrea's. "You didn't know. . .And this wasn't your fault. . .I do need to keep this, it's evidence, I hope you understand?"

Andrea nodded. "I understand, ma'am. . .Just please, please find who made him do this. . .Vinnie wouldn't have _ever_ committed suicide, he loved life too much. .. He loved the Navy. . .Damnit, He wanted to be a pilot!"

"I'll find out what happened, I promise." Hopefully, she was going to be able to keep that promise.

1720 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

With the help of Secretary of the Navy Caroline Hewitt, Vukovic had managed to lose his guard. The woman had told the Captain, in no uncertain terms, that he was not a criminal and until formal charges were brought up, they were to allow him his freedom. "Freedom my ass." Vic muttered. There was only so much 'freedom' you had on a ship. Angrily, he traipsed his way down to sickbay, the doctor needed to see him and make sure that his broken finger was doing alright. It hurt like hell and he'd spent the night in the merciful arms of pain killers.

Stepping inside sickbay, he immediately spotted a sleeping Harmon Rabb Jr. and the nurse which was taking his vitals. _The man is like a bad rash!_ He thought to himself as he tried, as hard as possible, to remove the angered look from his face. "Nurse, how's Captain Rabb doing?"

Startled, the woman glanced up. "He's doing better, sir. . . I bet you're here to see Doctor Winchester."

"Right you are."

"I'll go get him, take a seat." She stepped around him and out of the hatch, leaving Vic alone with Harm.

Glancing around, he made sure they were alone before he took a few steps closer. "You are a lucky son of a bitch, Rabb. . .What? Do you have an angel on your shoulder? Or did you just make a deal with the Devil?" He studied Harm for a moment, taking note of the IV tube attached to his arm. A zillion malicious thoughts were running through his head. It would be so easy to remove the liquid from the IV bag, let it fill with air and then squeeze it, pumping it into Harm's veins. If he recalled correctly, it would be called an air embolism.

"That would be a little messy." And it would be difficult to cover up. It would be so obvious that _someone_ had tampered with the IV lines and that was a risk he wasn't willing to take. There were other ways.

Taking a step back Vic took quick note of all of the gadgets that could be used as a murder device. _Murder?_ He shrugged, the word didn't phase him much anymore anyway. This wasn't a murder anyway. It was a way of getting what was his and securing a future.

A pristine white pillow was the catalyst that formulated a perfect plan in his head. "Now that, _is_ believable." He walked briskly towards the hatch and closed it, then settled his eyes on his intended target. Vic took a pillow from an empty cot and brought it up to chest level, then began the brief trek to Harm's cot. The man was asleep, unconscious, whatever the medical community would call his moment of rest. It wouldn't be too unbelievable for something to go wrong, for the Captain to expire in his sleep. It was even possible, that because of Harm's state, there wouldn't be too much of an investigation on his cause of death.

"Chalk it up to trauma." Grinning evilly, Vic raised the pillow and placed it over Harm's face. "Nighty, night, Captain."


	18. Bittersweet Reunion

**Okie dokie! Hope everyone is doing good. A few things are in the mix, bad and good things. Bad for you, good for me. LOL!**

**I'm FINALLY able to take the National exam for Massage. Takes three weeks for them to do the background checks, approval thingie! And so, I am taking THE TEST (The big mama test) on Friday.**

**Hence, Jackie has some reviewing, studying, all that jazz to do. So, absolutely no updates on anything until all of that passes. Don't be surprised if you don't even see me responding to e-mails much. I'll be busy! I mean it's a $225.00 test so, definitely gotta hit da books!**

**Wish me luck guys!**

**And here is wonderful part 18.**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**PART 18 – Bittersweet Reunion**

1720 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

It was easy to murder someone in their sleep. Slumbering victims just didn't put up a fight. Not that Vic had murdered anyone before, but he did have a few tainted moments in his past involving women. Moments that were not of the consensual kind. True, he had 'tried' to murder Harm before, but that was simply out of stupidity. Jarvis was a fool and, in kind, Vic had become _his_ fool, something that he vowed never to do again, especially since the new SECNAV was at his side, basically holding his hand.

Still, this would be murder. . .cold blooded, premeditated. And killing a helpless person. Vic was a bit more of the hunting type, but this would do. Especially if it fit his needs and, damnit, boy did it fit them! He took a breath and put his body weight on the pillow, attempting to smother the life out of his target. He didn't expect, however, that Harm would fight back. He could feel the tension, the restraint against his actions. Vic would have tried harder, but voices from down the hall stopped him entirely.

"Commander Vukovic, how are we. . ." Doctor Winchester's voice stopped suddenly. Frankly, it was. . .odd to see Vukovic fluffing Harm's pillow. "Captain. . .You're awake."

Harm was glancing around the room, his eyes moving wildly from one person to another. One moment he was asleep, the next, it felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs. To him, this all STILL had to be one hell of a dream. "Who are you?" He asked the doctor first, then glanced towards the nurse and finally, Vukovic. "Who the hell are you! Where the hell am I?"

Winchester walked calmly towards Harm's bedside and gave Vic a pointed glare. "Commander, the nurse will check your hand now." He literally shoved Vic out of the way, then address Harm. "I am Doctor Winchester, you are in sickbay aboard the USS Patrick Henry."

By the brows reaching his hairline, it was obvious that Harm had no clue what the doctor was talking about. "USS what?" Glancing around, he took in his surroundings and the odd colored walls in this sterile looking environment. "A military vessel?"

"Yes, Captain. . .The USS Patrick Henry is an aircraft carrier. . .I'm going to ask you a few questions while I take your vitals, is that alright?" When his patient didn't object, he took his stethoscope and went to work. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Now that was a tricky question. At the moment, he wasn't sure if this was a dream or if his adventure on the island was a dream. Maybe this was all one big ass nightmare? "The beach. . .and this couple, Ella and Connor Gerard. . . I hurt my leg. . ."

"Shrapnel wound. . .The Gerard's did a good job patching you up, but there was still some shrapnel left. . .It caused a pretty bad infection." He uncovered Harm's leg and pointed to the bandage. "You'll be fine though, get some IV's in you. . .some light physical therapy and you should be back doing. . .whatever you reservists do." He smiled, then took out a thermometer. "Open your mouth, Captain."

"Whay duyu kee culling me kaktaen?" Harm asked, holding the thermometer in his mouth, his lower lip sticking up slightly, the action causing his words to slur.

Winchester sighed. This would be the third time he'd offer his services to someone with some sort of amnesia. It wasn't quite up his alley, these type of cases irritated him. How could you tell someone who they were, if you barely knew? "You are a Captain in the US Naval Reserves. . .If you want more information that that, I'll bring your friend, Colonel MacKenzie up here."

"Conel Ackensee?"

"Captain Rabb, please refrain from speaking until the thermometer is out of your mouth."

Harm frowned. "Soryee" As he waited, Winchester checked on his leg, his slight movements causing an awful lot of pain. He winced once, twice, three times before the doctor suggested a pain killer.

"I'll give you something for the pain, Captain. .. But, it will put you to sleep."

Sleep? Yes! That is exactly what he wanted, to sleep this oddity off. _Maybe I'm drunk_? Harm thought with a snort. But that posed another problem, he couldn't remember drinking. In fact, he couldn't remember anything past that island nightmare.

_Sarah._

There was also the woman in his dreams. . .his nightmares. From time to time she would torment him, other times, she would. . .would do what exactly? Sarah wouldn't do anything but smile and laugh. Her laughter though, it made him smile. It was soft, flirty. . . Damn, the nightmares. . .They'd surpassed the good dreams as of late. If Sarah was in them, it usually wasn't too good. He kept having visions of her kissing more than just one man. He seemed to be on the outside looking in, while she toyed with him. _Damnit._ He thought, shaking his head slightly. Maybe he was delusional? Maybe he was insane?

Once Winchester removed the thermometer from his mouth, Harm addressed him. "Doc, I need those pain killers now. . .I need to sleep."

Sitting three cots down, Vukovic couldn't help but watch Winchester and Rabb's interaction. Was it possible? Could it be that the great Harmon Rabb Junior didn't remember. . .anything? Well, that certainly was something to look forward to, especially if there was some permanence to it. His lips curled up in a sick smile. Damn, things had turned around rather quickly, hadn't they? True, he wasn't out of the water, not by a long shot, but if Rabb really did forget things, he could at least stop treading. For now.

1802 Zulu  
USS Patrick Henry  
Location Undisclosed

"Colonel MacKenzie, there's a call for you ma'am. . .You can take it here." Chief Petty Officer Clarkson said, pointing at a communication unit on the wall.

Mac stood up. "Thank you." She turned to the "grape" that had been sitting across from her, a member of the flight deck responsible for fueling and de-fueling the aircraft. "Petty Officer, give me a moment please."

"Of course, ma'am." The young man smiled, then settled in comfortably, pretending not to hear. He was enlisted, of course they had to pretend.

Taking the receiver, Mac didn't expect the person on the other line. "Colonel MacKenzie."

(_"Mac?_" Mattie's broken voice came over. It was obvious she'd been crying. _"Mac? What the hell happened? I decide to come early and find out Harm's. . .he's missing?_" She hadn't spent Christmas with Harm and a slight bit of guilt had settled inside of her. Though she had fun skiing, the idea of spending time with Harm and Mac seemed much nicer. For so long she was praying for a family and now that she had one, she was acting rather ungrateful. Deciding to surprise Harm at the office seemed like a good idea, until Gunny had informed her of Harm's disappearance. Now, she sat in the living room of the Roberts' residence, tears streaming down her face. Why hadn't anyone told her?)

Mac closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. "Mats, this is. . .It's crazy, actually. . .We found him. . ."

(_"You did?"_ She squeaked out. _"How? When? Where?"_)

"Woah, woah. . .It's a long story and I can't discuss it over this line, but he's alive. . . I swear it." Though, it is possible that he doesn't remember a damned thing. Mac quelched that thought. Everything would be fine. _Yea right._

(_"He didn't even tell me he was flying."_ That was the tid bit that bothered Mattie the most. If she was his daughter, things like this she needed to know about. True, going on vacation didn't leave much room for deep conversations and such, but someone should have called.)

"Harm didn't think anything would happen. . .He didn't want to worry you while you were on vacation. . .How are you, by the way? Did you have fun?" The need to, even slightly, change the conversation was evident by the sound of Mac's voice. She didn't want to think about Harm right now, she had an investigation to wrap up.

(The sigh over the line was an indication that maybe things didn't pan out. _"Ah, well. . .We broke up."_ Mattie sighed. _"I guess it's for the better, don't want to piss off anyone at the Academy, you know? . . When will you come home?"_ She needed them home, to have someone to talk to. Someone who could help understand how to deal with a broken heart.)

"I don't know. Probably not until after the New Year. He's going to Bethesda for a check up. Then I suppose we'll head to San Diego. . .If you're in class, I'll see about getting you out. . .Your commanding officer owes me a favor after getting his nephew off the hook."

(Mattie smiled slightly. _"That sounds fine. . .I'm going to spend a couple of days with the Roberts. . .I ah, don't have keys to your place."_ She said, shyly, never thinking to ask for one. _"I should have asked for a copy, but I didn't want to cramp yours and Harm's style, you know?"_)

"You're not cramping our style, Mattie. . .Harriet has a spare key, if you want to crash at our place you can. . .And when I say 'our place', that means it's yours too. . . Just don't burn the place down." She joked, bringing a smile to her face as she heard the younger woman laughing over the line. "Listen, I have to go, but I'll see you soon, okay, kiddo?"

(_"Alright, Mac. . .Tell Harm I love him. . .Oh and. . .I love you, too."_ With that, she hung up the phone.)

Mac stared at the receiver for a moment. It was odd how those words could make someone feel so invincible. Coming from Mattie, they made her realize that, though that baby deal didn't pan out exactly as she dreamed, she still had the icing on the cake. What was that line about closing one door and opening another?

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Mac went back into Marine Investigative Mode and headed back towards Petty Officer First Class Andrew Tompkins. "My apologies, Petty Officer. I really don't mean to cut into your free time." She pressed the record button, then settled in. "Do you remember where you were on December 23 at around 1700 hours?"

"Sort of ma'am. . .More than likely, I was near one of the birds."

"Did you see Airman Arjan that day?"

Andrew nodded. "Yes, ma'am. . .I'd seen him below. There's a group of us, we're all. . .buddies. . .We tend to get together before our shift, say a prayer. . .I know it sounds stupid, but, the way things are. . ."

Mac smiled. "I don't find that stupid, Petty Officer."

"Well, that would be the first day that I hadn't seen Vinnie there. . .I mean, he wasn't overly religious, but he partook, you know?"

"Would you say he was acting odd that day?"

"Yes, ma'am. . .Actually, that whole week he was kinda out of sorts. . .But, that day in particular, he was really. . .freaked out. . .Then there was this fight he had with. . .that JAG officer. At least, I think it was a fight. . .Both of them were using pretty animated hand gestures." He made a few signs with his hands and shrugged.

At that moment, it was as if a light had turned on. Mac's eyes went wide. A lot of people, she knew, had seen the argument, however no one could really identify who it was exactly that Arjan was speaking to. The cranials and goggles made it difficult to tell. "You said the man Arjan was fighting with was a JAG officer?"

"Oh yes, ma'am."

She treaded ever so carefully, hoping that she wouldn't end up with nothing. Hoping that this man was the key. "How did you know he was a JAG officer?"

Andrew smiled. "I know how to read my ranks, ma'am." He said jokingly, then sobered as he realized that Mac wasn't kidding. "Sorry ma'am. . .I stepped out of the Island at the same time he did. . .There was a problem with my cranials, so I needed to step inside and get new ones. . .the Lieutenant Commander and I were handed the cranials at the same time. . .Hell, he even asked me to point him towards Vinnie."

"Did you witness any interaction between Airman Arjan and the Lieutenant Commander?" _Jesus_, this was one of the few people who knew, without a shadow of a doubt that Arjan and Vukovic were arguing. Most of the others saw the altercation, but couldn't be certain that Vic was involved. Thinking ahead, she knew who needed to testify if they went to trial.

"Yes. . . The Lieutenant Commander waved Vinnie over. . . They chatted a bit and then he grabbed Vinnie and yanked him towards him. . .It was clear they were arguing. . .After that, I went to speak to Vinnie and he just brushed me off." He became somber for a moment, his brain working over time. "Ma'am. . .Is it possible that the Lieutenant Commander had something to do with Vinnie's death?"

"Why would you say that?"

Andrew shrugged, then leaned in. "Vinnie wasn't the type to kill himself."

Mac nodded. Over and over again she'd heard the same testimony, that Vincent Arjan was a top notch sailor, one without a black record, and yet he was acting oddly the day of Harm's accident. "Thank you Petty Officer. Dismissed." Waiting for the Petty Office to leave, she then adjusted the sling on her arm, wincing at the pain. Getting shot just wasn't any fun. At least it wasn't her leg, that hurt a hell of a lot more. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Mac glanced up to find the doctor that had tended to her the night before at the hatch. "Hey, doc, coming to check on me?" She grinned.

"No." Doctor Missy Evans stepped inside and made her way over the table. "But, while I'm here. . .May I?" She took a seat right next to Mac, then pulled off the sling, setting it on the table. "Hurts, don't it?"

"Somewhat, yes. . ."

"And you haven't taken your meds." It wasn't a question, this Marine, she knew would be difficult to deal with.

"No, I need my head clear for this. . .I'll take it later, when I get a chance to rest." Holding her breath, she watched as Evans exposed the skin slightly. "How's it looking?"

Evans smiled. "Good. . .You should recover in no time. . .Minor physical, I'd say." She lowered the bandage and helped Mac place her arm back in the sling. "Whenever you stop by, make sure to get the bandaging changed." Standing, she walked across the ward room, took a cup and filled it with decaf. "There's some good news. . .About Captain Rabb." It was almost amusing to see the woman's normally steely eyes alight with. . .what had to be, love. "He's awake. . .Well, at least, he woke up for a bit. . .Winchester pumped him full of pain meds so he's sleeping again."

Mac couldn't find the words with which to respond. She opened and closed her mouth several times, words not formulating.

"I'd say, stop on by in an hour or so. . .He should be up then." Evans finished the coffee, placed the cup on the table and nodded towards Mac. "Well, good luck with the investigation, Colonel."

"Tha. . .Thanks." Settling into the chair Mac took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He's awake." That was a start, a good start. Now, all he had to do was remember.

Finishing some more interviews had given her that hour that Evans had suggested. Expectantly, Mac headed into sickbay where she instantly saw Harm, awake and alone. She stepped closer to him, catching his attention. There was a look that he gave her, a furling of his brow and a slight smile that raised her sprits. "Sarah." Harm said out loud, then tried to seat himself a little more upright in a cot that barely contained his six foot four frame.

To Mac, it was like stepping into a dream. "Harm." She took the final steps to his side but as she went to throw her arms around him, he pushed her back. "Harm?"

Waking up in a ship was taking a toll on him. It was either the medication, the pain or the fact that he hated sea going vessels, but something was making him nauseous. The medication that Winchester had given him had, at least, stopped the vomiting, but his head wasn't in the game. It didn't help that the vision of his dreams was now at his side. His dream or nightmare was very real. "Who are you? Why do I keep seeing you in my head?" He pointed towards his head. "Ever since I was on that island. . .I see you when I close my eyes."

Dejected, she took a hold of one of the metal chairs and pulled it right to his bed. She took a seat, her eyes trying to lock onto his, but Harm was determined not to let her. Frowning, she tried reaching for him, to touch his hand and maybe spark something more into him, but when he pulled away, she felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Sarah MacKenzie. . .I'm a Colonel with the United States Marine Corps and a lawyer for JAG. . .I head up the JAG office in San Diego: Joint Legal Service Southwest."

"Where are Ella and Connor?" Though they were strangers to him, their hospitality and, yes, friendship, was something to hold onto within the turmoil of his life. "They. . .they helped me. . . I think."

"They're also onboard. . .I saw them earlier today. . . They're speaking with the CIA at the moment."

Harm's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Are they in danger?"

"No. . .I mean, there may be charges filed against them at some point, but for now they are cooperating. . .helping destroy the terrorist cell."

That statement confused him, but there was something else that Harm was concerned about. It began with the ease in which this woman was discussing things with him. "Why do I feel like we know each other?"

It was tempting. Very temping indeed, to begin discussing their current state of relationship. But, maybe it was more pertinent to start at the beginning. "We've known each other for. . .fifteen years. . .God, that sounds so long. . .Sometimes it feels like yesterday that we met."

"W-w-wait." He raised his hands up signaling for her to stop. There was a little something that was nagging him. "Who am I? Connor and Ella, they said something about me being. . .military?"

If possible, Mac's heart sank just a bit more. "Yes. . .Your name is Harmon Rabb Junior, you're a Captain in the US Naval Reserves. You used to be a JAG lawyer. . .That's how you and I met. . .But, before that, you were a Tomcat pilot."

Harm made a face, then chuckled. Pilot? "Pilot? Look, I _hate_ planes." But the look on Mac's face said otherwise. "Don't I?"

"You love planes. . .You even own a vintage Stearman." She decided to omit the fact that the plane was named 'Sarah.'

This seemed to confuse him even more. He never knew that people in the military could have dual roles. "So I am a lawyer and a pilot?"

_Shit._ Mac thought, admonishing herself for giving away just a little too much info. It was difficult enough to try to tell him who he was without adding in the trauma of his ramp strike and all of the other zillion or so things that made up Harmon Rabb Junior. "Okay, let's start at the beginning. . .You went to the Naval Academy. From there you went to flight school, you joined a squadron and flew for the Navy. . .Then you decided to change your designator and came to JAG. . . A few years later, you and I met and we were partners up to nine years ago." Technically, they'd stopped being partners the moment he decided to leave JAG and re-join a squadron, but she didn't want to confuse him even more. The details, she swore, would come later. "Then you received a promotion and with it came a billet in London, which you took. . .I wound up in San Diego with my own promotion and billet. . .Somewhere along the way you got tired of the law and opened up a private investigation firm with a former co-worker of ours. . .So, you moved to San Diego and opened up the office there. . .Now, you are still in the Navy, but only as a reservist. . .As such you are the commanding officer of a squadron."

Okay, all of that he understood, somewhat. There were a few words she used that he wasn't familiar with, but that was alright, he got the gist. "How did I wind up on that island?"

"A few weeks ago, you and your squadron were ordered to this ship, the USS Patrick Henry(,) to fly a classified mission. . .From what I understand, your plane malfunctioned and you ejected into the ocean and wound up on the island."

Harm nodded. "And I suppose I was rescued and that's why I am in this tin can?"

Mac chuckled at his tin can remark. "Yes, exactly."

An uncomfortably tense silence settled between the two. It was that particular feeling that made Mac realize just how different things really were at the moment. There was no two ways about it, she and Harm were strangers now. "My name. . .What's my name again?"

"Harmon Rabb Junior. . .You were named after your father."

A slight smile tugged at his lips. "I have parents?"

"Yes, your mother Patricia and your. . .step father Frank." At the questioning look in his eyes, Mac swallowed down the lump at her throat which always appeared there whenever she thought of Harm Senior. "Your father. . .he was shot down during Vietnam. . . your mom remarried several years later."

"Oh." The smile was completely whipped from his lips. "What about me? Do I have a wife? Kids?"

_Wife._ Way back when she would have given her soul to be his wife. Now, she just wanted him and it didn't matter how the package was labeled. In a sense, they practically were married. Lord knows they'd gone through more tribulations than any marriage could survive and yet, here they were. "You've never been married. . .You do have an adoptive daughter, Mattie. . .She's attending Annapolis and wants to be a pilot like you."

The thought of having a kid, adoptive or not, gave him a bad taste in his mouth. However, the thought of not being hitched, that was a hell of a lot more appealing. Harm couldn't see himself married, period. "What about you and I? Have we. . .?" Purposely he let the question trail off as if he actually knew the answer. He didn't, of course, but there was something to the way that Sarah had entered his room and something to the way she tried to touch him. If his dreams, his good dreams, had anything to say about it, they had been intimate.

Mac, on the other hand, was drowning and not in a welcomed way. "This isn't an appropriate thing to discuss aboard this vessel." Then again, she wouldn't be surprised if the President of the United States knew that they'd finally hooked up. "But, yes. . .You and I are a couple. . .we've been living together for several months now, actually." For the first time since this whole ordeal began, she smiled genuinely. The way in which he came to live with her wasn't exactly ideal, how could it be when his house had been blown to pieces. Nevertheless, he had come to her. And, when she asked, Harm had 'officially' moved in with her. "It took a while for us to get together. . .We cared for each other too much to try, I guess."

Now that made absolutely NO sense to him at all. "But, we're not married, right?"

"No. We're not married." Why was it that Harm seemed to breathe a sigh of relief? Maybe a change in topic was in order? "How does your leg feel?"

Harm shrugged. "Pain meds got me numb at the moment. . .I think you can drop a Buick on me and I wouldn't feel it." He smiled, but it wasn't quite the flyboy smile that was his trademark. It was different, reserved.

There were even differences in the way he carried himself. If Mac didn't know better, she would say this was a totally different man. "I'm sure you'll do a little therapy for it."

"What happened to you?" He asked, outstretching his finger to point at Mac's arm. "You go to war or something?"

Well, it wasn't a war, but it may as well have been. "I was in the search party that found you, Harm." She didn't care to elaborate on exactly _how_ she found him. That whole conversation just didn't seem feasible. 'Oh, by the way, I have this mysterious power, along with a near-perfect sense of timing, to find you anywhere in the world. Ain't that cool?' Nope, even without the blatant sarcasm, it just sounded too WEIRD. "We took some fire and I got shot covering the Marine which carried you onto the helo."

"Helo? What the hell is that?"

"Helo is a helicopter. . ." Damnit, he really didn't remember a thing. She figured, at least, it would be like last time. The information was a little skewed, but at least he remembered the majority of the people around him. Except Renee, but maybe that was a sign from God? She smirked at the notion. "Is there anything that you remember? Anything at all?"

Harm closed his eyes and laid his head back against the pillows. He was willing himself to remember, but the only thing that came to mind was a nightmare. "Nothing except. . ." He trailed off, unsure of how she would interpret what he was about to say. For all he knew, this woman and he didn't get along in reality. Hell, maybe she was an ex? With a killer body like hers, he could just imagine. . .

"Except what?" Mac was hopeful to hear even a shred of a memory. That would be something to work on, a place to start. She wasn't prepared, however, to know she'd been, mostly, in his nightmares.

"Except a nightmare I keep having. . .It involves you. . .One moment you're smiling at me, laughing. . .The next, you're kissing another guy and then pointing a gun at me. . .aiming to. . .my heart." Metaphorically it made some sort of sense in his twisted mind. She went to another and shot him through the heart, it was all a part of the game of love. Thing is, when someone leaves you for another, there isn't that look in their eyes. Mac had the look, one that spoke of pain and love. There was also an understanding, like she knew what the dream was about.

"I don't know what that's about." She lied knowing full well that the man he saw her kissing, was Webb. "I mean, you and I have hurt each other before, but friends, lovers, relatives. . .they all have done that as well." Mac wondered if he'd had that dream before, when he still remembered who he was. Damnit, had she really hurt him _that_ badly? Yes, they'd discussed it, but it was so difficult to put into words what your feelings held. With this mental picture, she understood, truly – Shot through the heart. Damnit, she didn't deserve him. Maybe this was all punishment?

"When are we getting off of this tin can? I'm anxious to get home. . ." Harm stopped for a moment. He didn't have a home. Well, he probably did, but how do you have a home when you don't know where that home is? ". . .wherever that is."

"San Diego, California. . .Your home's with me." At least, she hoped it still was. "We're going to go to Bethesda, they'll be able to check yours and my injuries better. . .From there, I'll request that you be sent to Balboa and. . ."

"Balboa?" He interrupted, a grin in place. "As in Rocky Balboa?"

"Heh, ah, no. . .Balboa as in the Naval Medical Center in San Diego." She pointed out with a sigh. Every second that passed, she realized, this was _real._ "Then, I guess you can come home."

_Home. San Diego._ It made no difference to him because no matter what anyone said, he knew there was no where on Earth that would really feel like home to him. There was one plus side though. "At least I'll have something beautiful waiting for me." He smiled, but again, it wasn't his usual smile and it didn't have its usual effect. In fact, Mac barely held his eye contact. "Is there a problem, Sarah?"

Sarah? Okay, so it's not like Harm hadn't ever called her that but. . .there was something. . .weird about the way he said it. It was almost as if he was trying to seduce her. "It's Mac. . .You call me Mac."

His brow rose in amusement. "What kind of a name is Mack for a woman?" That comment was sexist, but he didn't care. Frankly, Harm rather liked that little shiver he'd seen when he called her Sarah.

"Mac is short for MacKenzie, my last name. . .You've called me 'Mac' since we met." And that was something she didn't want to change. Sarah was something he called her in private, during intimate moments.

But _this_ Harm didn't get it because he couldn't recall even a miniscule piece of their fifteen year history. _This_ Harm only saw a pretty woman who, for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt drawn to. "But, Sarah is a much more beautiful name than Mac. . .Mac's. . .masculine, and you sure as hell ain't masculine." He smiled brightly at the slight blush which crept on her cheeks. "Ella and Connor were calling me Mack, though I figure it had to do with the dreams I was having about you."

"Yes, that's what they said." Raising her good hand, she placed it on her other arm, it was starting to hurt again. She took deep, slow breaths willing the pain to subside. Right now, the last thing she needed was any type of medication that would hurt her ability to think on her feet. "Is there anything else you wanted to know?"

There was plenty that he wanted to know, he just wondered how much of it was true and how much of it she was fabricating because she could. "The way you asked that, it seems like you want to leave." At the moment, anything anyone told him was touch and go.

Mac grinned impishly. "Truthfully, I may need to pop a few pain pills which means I'll need to take a nap. . .That doesn't mean I want to leave." But, she did want to leave, not him, of course, but the situation. She just wanted _her_ Harm back. "Is there anything else you want to know?" Course there was, that was a stupid question.

"A lot, but I guess we're not going to be able to go through it all now. . . It being inappropriate and all." He was mocking her and Mac knew it. Maybe he was even baiting her to say something more.

"I want to talk to you, but, this _really_ isn't the time, Harm. . .I'm investigating Vukovic and. . ."

Harm glanced at her, his expression uncaring and dispassionate. "Vukovic. . .Yea, that's the guy that was fluffing my pillow when I woke up."

She couldn't have been more shocked if possible. "He was in here?"

"Well, yeah, and the doc told him to leave and come back and he did. He left a little while before you came in." He smiled genuinely. "Seems like such a great guy. . .And you said you were investigating him?"

Oh no. He'd already gotten to Harm and twice! What the hell was going on with Vukovic! If he was a suspect to Arjan's accident, how the hell could he be allowed to walk around the ship freely? "Listen, you get some rest. . .I'll see about getting you out of this. . .tin can." Mac stood up and leaned forward, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Rest, okay?"

The kiss left him dumbstruck. "Okay, Sarah." He watched her leave, noticing how reluctant it was. Harm could swear that maybe she didn't want to leave him after all. Damn, that was a complete change from minutes earlier when he was sure she wanted to bolt. "Sarah MacKenzie." He grinned stupidly, wondering how difficult it would be to get into her pants.

Back in the wardroom, Vukovic sat patiently by the communications unit, waiting for his shore to ship to be patched through. No doubt, the SECNAV had something to say about his predicament. She wasn't pleased, but just how much hot water would she stick him in? He just didn't think that Hewitt would be yelling at him from the moment he picked up the damned receiver, especially since she'd yelled at him once before.

(_"Gregory, you are a fucking incompetent idiot!"_ Livid wouldn't even begin to express just how angry she was at him. When he'd contacted her about covering his ass, she literally thought it was a joke, or at best, some silly little investigation that _he_ was having trouble with. She never thought things would go this far.)

"Woah, hey. . .There's no need to talk to me like that, okay. I was just doing what you told me." He countered with what he believed to be true.

(Hewitt sighed deeply over the line. Men, all of them were just pure trouble. _"I told you to keep Rabb busy. . .I never told you to kill him!"_)

Vic pulled the phone away from his ear while grimacing. The woman had a set of lungs on her, that's for sure. "Well, when you say the words 'get him out of the picture' most people would assume you mean. . ."

(_"I NEVER said those words."_)

Really, he was going to have to keep official records of things. "Yes, you did."

(Alright, so she MAY have mentioned those words, but she figured he just didn't have the stomach to do anything really sinister. And it was obvious that he didn't as he picked someone else to do it for him. _"Fine. . .Fine, I did. . .So what now?"_)

"What now? What now? Make the damned investigation go away! Mac keeps looking around. . .she's already found people who SAW me fighting with Arjan!"

(She could do that and easily, but the stories of her interfering with the good of the Navy were growing. _"You should have never toyed with this. . .When you said you were messing with the plane I always assumed you were doing something to keep him on the Henry while I got my hands on MacKenzie. . .Now, you managed to stick yourself in the middle of this. . .NIGHTMARE. . . and reunite Rabb and MacKenzie."_ Why couldn't he just get it? All she needed was Mac, without complications. Damnit, ever since his involvement with Theodore Jarvis, Vukovic was like a loose cannon.)

Ah, but he held one ACE in his pocket. "They're not together. . .at least, not exactly."

(_"What do you mean 'not exactly'?"_)

"He can't remember a thing. . ."

(_"What?"_)

"Amnesia. . ." He dragged the word out, grinning evilly as she 'oooohed' over the line. "I was listening in and, I'm thinking this is pretty permanent. . .Yup, couldn't be any better if we planned it ourselves." Yes, no matter what, Vic knew that this would work out to their favor. He kept getting the right signs – every time a door closed, a window would open. It wouldn't be too long before Sarah MacKenzie was theirs.

His. Eventually, she would be his.


	19. Something Missing

**YAY! I got flamed for Chapter 18! Now THAT makes me happy! Nothing like getting a reaction. :efg: Ah, according to our mysterious flamer (hmm, nice name for a band. . .) I have been denigrating Harm to make Mac look better because I prefer Mac to Harm. :yawn: Can we get some new ammo? This Harm vs. Mac crap is getting ridiculously old. Sheesh!**

**And yes, I'm studying! Despite feeling like crap and having a cell splitting headache. :P**

**Take care all!**

**More next week.**

**Jackie.**

**PS: Yes, the New Harm is off kilter, but it won't be like that for too long. He'll be back! IT's an angst story. . .You know? Angst! ;)**

**PART 19 – Something Missing**

January 22, 2011  
1645 Local  
Naval Medical Center San Diego  
San Diego, California

Mac pulled her red Corvette into an empty space outside of Balboa then killed the engines. Hospitals were definitely _not_ one of her favorite places. Since she was young, Mac had spent an unfathomable amount of times in the hospital. All of the times revolved around an argument where Joe MacKenzie had wound up hurting Deanne MacKenzie. When she was really little, it was fun, a joke. She would sit in the waiting area and often get lollypops for being such a good girl. The novelty of it all wore out as she started noticing how hurt her mother was and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it. During a particularly bad episode, when her mother's arm had been broken, Joe threatened to break Mac's arm too if she said a thing. So, Mac never did, not to anyone. Except Harm.

During their time together, she'd found herself willing to talk to him when things, little things, bothered her. Talking about her family life was never easy. But, to her, it was a necessary evil, a reason to remain strong to show that, despite the horrors of her life, she was here, alive, strong and successful. The best part of all, she was loved and loved someone back in return.

All of that, though, came crashing down each and every time she was in communication with what she called the _New Harm._

They'd spoken on the phone several times and he still chose to call her 'Sarah', something that was beginning to bother her. It was the way that he said it, as if he had this familiarity with her though he _still_ didn't remember a damned thing. All kinds of tests were done, re-done and done again, but nothing was really found. There was no type of head injury that would have caused the amnesia. The neurologists all chocked it up to trauma and stress. One suggested it may have been the jolt of ejecting. Nothing was conclusive and soon they decided it was time to send him home.

The time that Mac had spent in Bethesda was neither long nor very productive. She'd been kept on bed rest for three days, on another wing of the hospital all the while waiting for Loftness' decision on whether or not to go after Vukovic. By her standards, there were enough witnesses to testify against him. True, there wasn't any magic glue, but reasonable doubt was good enough. If Vic would take the stand, she would do anything to take him apart piece by piece.

Awkward moments seemed to be the only prevalent constant whenever she'd visit Harm. He always wanted more information, details, stories, things that she sometimes had to sugar coat in order not to discuss some of their worst memories. One of the oddest moments was when Mattie had arrived to visit him. All the girl wanted was a hug, a form of affection, something that made her feel loved, but this Harm didn't seem too affectionate. If anything, he was trying to get rid of the girl to spend more time alone with _Sarah._ At least, that's how it felt to Mac. "How long is he going to be like this?" Mattie had asked, her voice filled with desperation.

"No one knows. . .Could be hours, days."

"Years." Mattie supplied with a frown. "I have to go back to the Academy. . .If he remembers, tell him I love him." Sadly, she slipped out of the room, not sharing that part of her wished he was still missing, at least _that_ man would have treated her nicer.

Sturgis had also visited along with Cresswell, two men that didn't rub Harm the right way at all. He would take cheap shots at anything the two said, joking in ways that really weren't funny at all. It seemed that this Harm had a mean streak that wasn't winning him points in trying to find the real him. Not that he wanted to find that. At the moment, he didn't care.

Mac cringed when she thought of the conversation she'd had with Cresswell just outside of Harm's room. "Sir, he needs me. . .I believe he will remember, he just needs time." She wasn't asking for much, only a week longer to get the doctors to let her spring him out. Maybe going home would make something snap?

But Cresswell would have none of it. "Colonel, I know. . .Believe me, I know. . .but you have a job to do. . . I've bent the rules. Hell, I've damned near broken them off for you. . .Please, don't push my loyalties any further. ."

She knew he was right. Being a commanding officer, one couldn't just shirk their duties. There were people that counted on her, people that needed her. And she damned well couldn't and wouldn't keep Bud working odd hours while trying to manage the office and the case loads. "My apologies General, I wasn't thinking clearly for a moment."

"No need to apologize, believe me, I understand what you are going through. . ." Reluctantly, before leaving he turned to Mac. "I'll give you two more days, but then I want you on a flight to JLSS, read me?"

Gratefully, Mac snapped to attention. "Aye, aye, sir."

Those two extra days hadn't allowed for much of anything. Between her own rehab and Harm's sour moods, spending time with him was close to impossible. The last time he'd shown some real, human concern and emotion was when she was leaving. He'd hugged her then, and placed a very chaste kiss on her lips. Mac never could have known that it was a test, really, a way for Harm to gauge just how far he could go with her. She didn't pull away when he leaned in to kiss her, she didn't seem disgusted, but rather pleased. All of those details were being reordered into Harm's mind. It wouldn't be a few weeks until he was sprung from Bethesda.

Stepping into Balboa, she was overcome with the same feelings that were always prevalent when she stepped foot into a hospital. Arriving at the appropriate floor, she immediately went to the nurses' station and relayed Harm's information. It was pleasing to know that, at least, something DID go right. He was released into her custody. Grabbing a hold of the wheelchair the nurse handed her, she stepped into Harm's room. "Hey there, sailor."

The look on his face _almost_. . ._almost_ matched the cute and surprised look _her_ Harm would have normally given her. The New Harm had all sorts of new quirks. "Oh hey, Sarah. . .You look. . .sexy." He said in a husky voice as he took in the sight of Sarah MacKenzie in civvies. "Lost the uniform, I see?"

One thing was when they would playfully flirt with each other, when it was mutual. However, when it was one-sided and coming from a man that, at the moment, didn't know her, it was unsettling. A thin smile appeared on Mac's lips. "Ready to go home?"

"I still don't know where home is, but sure." Home. How many people had used that word since he'd been hospitalized? _Anytime you'll be back home, Captain._ San Diego was home, he knew that, but it didn't feel right, not at all. And all of that 'Captain' business he got rid of rather quickly. If they were to call him anything, it was that odd name that Sarah had claimed was his father's Harmon. . .Harm. Honestly, Mack was a better preference. "Trish. . .umm. . .Mom was here earlier today."

At the very least, Mac wouldn't have to do this part alone. There were people willing to help. The most difficult thing though, was telling the woman about Harm's accident _and_ memory loss. It was a major blow to Trish, as Mac expected it would be. 'I should have stopped him.' She'd told her when Cresswell had sent her back to San Diego and she'd been able to speak to Trish face to face. But, Trish would have none of that, she knew Mac better than that. "That's nice. . .did she bring by anything?"

"Only a dozen or so photo albums." He said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

By the looks of things, not a single memory had returned. "Nothing, huh?"

"Nope. . .I'm beginning to think that this is permanent." Not that it was a bad thing. See, Harm was starting to see this situation in a whole different light. What if his other self was the imposter? What if this was _his_ chance to live. Damn, it wouldn't be a bad life, especially with a woman like Sarah at his side. He didn't love her, not yet anyway. Maybe that was something to work on. Would it really be so bad? "You don't look pleased."

Mac raised a brow. "Why would I be pleased?" She didn't mean for that to come out as snippy as it did, but she couldn't help herself. She needed _her_ Harm back, couldn't he understand that? "Sorry. . .I'm just tired. . .Been busy at JLSS." She patted the seat of the wheelchair and helped him settle into it. "This is just until we get outside."

"Okay." And that was another thing, if he wasn't moody, he was complacent – about everything!. _Her_ Harm would have been bitching about the wheelchair, about how he could walk just fine on his own. He'd have bitched about the food as well. She almost had a coronary when she walked into the hospital room two days ago to find him having a burger which he seduced a nurse into getting him.

The drive to their home wasn't silent. If he wasn't asking one question, he was asking another. About the location, the car, the drive, her job – details that _Her_ Harm would have known by heart. "Here we are." She said, a little too cheerily, when they arrived at their home.

Whatever Harm was expecting, this wasn't it. Not that it was a bad thing, but his conversations with Trish had led him to believe that he was rich. While the house probably cost Sarah a pretty penny, it wasn't the mansion on the beach that he expected. Putting on a smile, he walked towards the entrance, noticing that Mac was looking at him expectantly. "Nothing."

_Damnit._ Alright, so that didn't do the trick, maybe her plan would?

Stepping inside Harm was overwhelmed to find over a dozen or so faces he didn't know. He took two steps backwards, almost running over Mac who was standing just behind him. "What is this?"

Mac smiled. "It's a coming home party. . .These are our friends and coworkers." Their closer friends from JAG were present, along with Gunny and the members of Rabb and Galindez Investigative Services. "They know what's going on. . .I just thought. . ."

Slowly, he raised a hand and waved at the group. "Well, it certainly _is_ a surprise." Of course it was, he was rather hoping that his home coming involved Sarah and a bed, though he doubted, very much, she would be interested in him if he was like this.

The introduction of the group was an odd feeling. Some faces he thought were familiar, others, he was sure he'd never seen before. Predominant in it all was the young woman who Sarah kept referring to as Jen. She was there with another man, but that really didn't matter. Harm found himself sauntering over with a smile that he hoped would send the message across. "So, you're Jen, right?"

Jen glanced up at him and smiled. "Yes, sir. . .Petty Officer Jennifer Coates, you kept me out of jail." Suddenly, she pressed a hand over her mouth, hiding the odd face she was making. "I'm sorry, sir. . .I am sure this is overwhelming for you. . .Details like that can't help."

Oh, but this was different, this he _wanted_ to know about. "No, it's fine. . .How'd I keep you out of jail?"

"You made me want to stay in the Navy. . .I can't say that I regret it. . .I love the Navy and if I you and the Colonel wouldn't have given me reasons to stay, God knows where I would have been. . .I certainly wouldn't have met Josh. . .erm, Corporal Lane." She blushed then blew a kiss towards Josh who was chatting with Gunny.

Harm folded his arms across his chest. "He's a kid. . . Kids do childish things. . .Real men, however, do manly things." His eyes pinned her with a predatory gaze which was rapidly making Jen uncomfortable. "If you're interested, you know where to find me."

At first, Jen wanted to laugh, this had to be a joke of sorts, but it wasn't. And that look, that unsettling and frightening look he was giving her _was_ real. She was afraid to say it out loud and cause a problem between Harm and Mac, so she leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. "Red Light, Captain." With that, she turned on her heal and headed towards Josh.

"Red Light? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Feeling a tap on his arm, he glanced down to find little AJ. "What do you want?"

AJ just grinned up at his godfather. "A Red Light is when you do something wrong. . .Dad Red Lights Jimmy all the time. . .It's a Navy thing." He rocked back and forth on his heels, hoping for some sort of conversation which wasn't forthcoming. "Uncle Harm, are you okay?"

Okay? Hell no! This little party was turning into a major headache. "No, kid, I'm not. . .Why don't you scram. Go to mommy or daddy." He turned around, leaving AJ standing there with a sad look on his face.

Nervously, Harm scrubbed a hand over his face and then came toe to toe with a man sporting cropped hair and some stubble. "How you doing, partner?" The man slipped a beer into his hand and patted him on the back in a rather chummy fashion.

Partner? Ah, yes, the PI firm. What was the name of the guy he ran it with? "You're. . .Granny?" Harm said with a shrug. What was that name that Sarah had called him?

"Gunny." Victor clarified, then took a long pull from his own beer bottle. "Look, I am sure this is. . .kinda difficult."

"Kinda?" He snorted, then shook his head in astonishment. "Look, _partner. . ._ I don't know who the hell I am. . .or who the hell _you_ are. . .I don't know anyone. . .I _don't_ want to know anyone and yet. . .Everyone wants to know me. . .This is like a bad dream that I can't get out of. . .and since I've been in this nightmare, I feel like I'm dying to live in a world I don't belong."

Gunny brought his hands up in surrender. "Woah, calm down. . .I just want you to know that I'm here for you. . .We have a business together. We're partners. But, we're friends before that. . .Just relax, okay?" He patted Harm on the back one more time, then, reluctantly left him alone. "Damnit." This wasn't good, not at all. Their partnership had worked splendidly, but he wasn't sure how long the company would survive without a partner. There weren't that many people that Gunny trusted to run a business with and, unfortunately, he couldn't trust Harm now. The thought made him feel guilty, sick.

Mac had watched the interaction with great curiosity. It was clear that Harm wasn't impressed by Gunny or even slightly motivated. Discussions about the business had gone on, when Gunny confided that he couldn't support the firm, on his own, for more than half a year.

"You alright, Mac?" Harriet had taken the chance to step up to her friend. Since they'd been gone, the conversations were short and infrequent. Such was military life. "Stupid question to ask, but. . .are you?"

"It wasn't a stupid question, Harriet. . .And, no. No, I'm not alright." Her eyes scanned for Harm who had managed to sneak out of the sliding glass doors with little to no notice. "I was hoping that he'd come back, remember and we'd pick up where we left off." She shook her head. "This was going to be our first Christmas _together._ Do you know how shitty it feels to have that taken away?"

"I know about missing holidays. . .I missed several when Bud was at sea. . .but I guess this is different."

Feeling a headache coming on, Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. "He opened up to me. . .We've shared things that. . .that. . .that we've never been able to before. . .I trusted him with my heart. . .And I know he trusted me with his. . ." With the back of her hand she wiped away a stubborn tear.

Hopes and prayers often went unanswered, Harriet knew this better than anyone. But, she knew that believing was usually the key ingredients to making things happen. "Mac. . .You don't know what's going to happen. He might wake up tomorrow and suddenly remember." Taking Mac's wrist, she tugged the woman towards the sliding glass doors. "Go to him. . .He needs you."

Walking out to the deck, Harm stood, leaning up against the railing. In this head, pictures of every person he'd been introduced to danced around like marionettes and Sarah as their master. She meant well, he knew this, but really hoped she would back off. No, that wasn't right, he _wanted _her. It was just the emotional stuff that he didn't give a damn about. "How can you be attracted to someone you don't know?" The idea was bizarre to him, though every shred of information that came out of her lips was a story of him and her defying the odds. Apparently, some sick force thought that they were meant to be together. Sexually, maybe. Past that, Harm wasn't sure what he wanted. Love was pointless and elusive. He needed to find himself first.

The Ocean breeze assaulted him and he welcomed the feeling up until he felt someone walk up behind him.

It was Sarah. "You okay?"

He didn't bother turning to address her and merely shook his head. "Nope. . .When the hell are they leaving?"

The tone of his voice shocked her. He'd never spoken with such disdain before, even when they were angry at each other. "Harm, they, pretty much just got here. . .Give it a chance." She needed this to work! Even the doctor said that a small gathering of friends might jolt him back.

Angrily, he pushed himself off the railing and spun around, coming nose to nose with Mac. "I don't want to be around them, okay?" To make his point, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little too hard. "It's difficult enough as it is without having people try to make me remember cute little stories of things I can't remember."

When he finally let her go, Mac was at a complete loss for words. He'd never been this way with her. . .with anyone. The man that had stared her down tonight wasn't Harm. She didn't know who he was. Maybe it was best to send everyone home, cut her losses? Tomorrow was a brand new day. Biting her lower lip, she managed to stop the tears before they fell. She wouldn't cry, not now.

It took a minute to compose herself enough to step back inside. When she did, Harm was no where to be found. Maybe this really wasn't a good idea? "Listen guys, I think it's best if you all go home. . .Harm's not feeling well and the doctor says he needs to rest." The explanation was as good as any, though no one seemed pleased. "Thank you for coming."

The group remained in stunned silence for a moment and then, one by one, began to file out of her home. Harriet and Bud were the last to leave. "Mac, if anything. . ."

"I know, Harriet. . .And you don't have to worry. . .We'll be fine." No they wouldn't, in fact, a good portion of the evening her mind had run away, deciphering where exactly she would sleep tonight. It was logical to want to lay by his side, she'd been doing that for months. But, now, something new presented itself. She wouldn't be sleeping next to Harm – it would be like sleeping next to a stranger. And that was _all_ they were going to do – sleep. Nothing more, though she was longing to taste his skin, to feel his hands caressing her skin.

Mac took a breath and shook the mental images out of her head. Sometimes, if she concentrated really hard, she could literally feel him, his hands, his breath, his kisses. "C'mon MacKenzie. . .Fantasies can't lead to anything good." Not when she was trying to guard her soul from a familiar stranger. Deciding she would clean the house the next morning, she decided to lock up and head upstairs instead. To her surprise, Harm was sitting on the top landing of the stairs, body hunched over to the side, supported by a wall as he tried to get some shut eye. "Harm?"

Her voice startled him. "Sarah?" Rubbing his eyes, it took a second or two for him to register that he had fallen asleep against a wall. "Sorry. . .I. . . I'm sorry for being such an ass. . .It's just. . .overwhelming, I guess." He'd practiced that since the moment he headed past everyone in the party and upstairs like a grumpy teenager.

"I should have run that by you first. . . I thought it would help." Offering her hand, she waited for him to take it and helped Harm up to his feet. "You look tired."

"I need some sleep. Preferably, in a comfortable bed. . .Those hospital beds are brutal." He bended backwards and sideways, trying to crack his spine. Mac had disappeared into one of the doors and he followed her, taking a look at what had to be the master bedroom. On the night stand, there was a picture of him and her aboard some sailboat. She looked radiant, happy and he must have been the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

Fumbling through the drawers, Mac pulled a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt then handed it over. Harm usually slept in his shorts, but the last thing she needed in her state of mind was a half naked Harmon Rabb Junior running around. "You can take the bed. . .You usually sleep in here. . . with me." It was difficult not to drive that point. Strange to think that this bedroom that was once just HERS had become THEIRS. Now, it was morphing back into something that was solely hers. Mac didn't like that feeling. It was nice to share her bed with him. It was nice just to share life with him. She'd never felt so complete before in her life and now. . .The look he was giving her was positively predatory and not in a good way. "I mean it, take the bed . .I'll sleep in the office. We have a Murphy bed there for. . for Mattie. . .You remember Mattie, right?"

Ah, of course he did. Mattie was that kid that had visited him in Bethesda, the one that thought she knew so much. How such an annoying young woman would have anything to do with his life was beyond comprehension. And that whole 'pilot speak' was nauseating. "We're adults. . .I think we can do the sharing a bed thing." He wanted to add that, even if she were willing, which, by the look in her eyes, the answer was 'no', he wouldn't be too sure what to do with her.

Mac expected so much from him that their conversations had become severely annoying. He'd merely liked to hear her speak, just so he could watch those lips of hers. Yes, hell, yes he was attracted to her, what straight man wouldn't be? But, the fact that she kept trying to make him remember someone that he wasn't and would never be, was unsettling. No matter how much she wished for it, he would never be Harmon Rabb again. He was just a man that held that name, period. And damnit, that lost, doe eyed look was driving him slowly insane. It wasn't his fucking fault that his life was a blank slate!

Mac's big brown eyes were starting to do him in and as much as Harm wasn't interested in perusing something serious, he _wanted_ her. It had to be something residual from his memory, this uncontrollable attraction. Then again, she was attractive as hell.

"Yeah, I guess. . .I'm going to go change, take your time." In a hurry, she took some clothing from the drawers and rushed out of the room and into the office. Mac closed the door, rested her back and slid down against it. The tears came without any effort whatsoever. She only hoped he couldn't hear them.

At that moment, she hated herself – it was almost a preference to have him missing than to have whatever he'd become. That wasn't Harm, not by a long shot. Damnit, he didn't even talk the same, walk the same. His smile, normally radiant, cocky as hell and definitely sexy, was gone. It just wasn't him. And 'Sarah', why did he insist on calling her 'Sarah' all of the time? Something about the way he said it made her feel cheap and then some. God, what had happened? When was it finally going to end?

Harm was already half asleep when he felt the weight on the bed shift. He didn't have to turn over to know that she'd joined him, her perfume was warning enough. Its scent assaulted his senses and his body was showing him just how much he wanted her sexually. He took a breath, holding it for a few seconds, willing himself into control. If it didn't happen, he would have to take her then, consequences be damned. Thankfully, his body conceded and he was able to catch that illusive sleep until around three in the morning, when Harm was awakened by something soft and warm at his backside.

Startled, he twisted to the side, catching another whiff of Sarah's sweet, feminine scent. In her sleep, she must have traversed the bed, searching for him. He figured they probably slept in each other's arms, the idea so sweet it made him sick. Sarah shifted slightly, pressing her chest into him, her mouth stopping just at his neck. While she didn't kiss him, Harm's mind was already filling in all of the gaps. Something about her tenaciousness had him wondering about her bedroom activities. She was probably a wild woman in the sack.

Turning slowly, a mischievous grin appeared on his lips. At this moment, she may be vulnerable enough to not realize what was happening – that he was taking advantage of her sleep deprived state. Hell, it was worth a shot. He leaned in slightly, kissing her lips fully, an act that had her awake and responding in kind. "Sarah. . .I want you." He rasped against her throat, where his lips were leaving a trail of fire that continued onward and through the valley of her breasts.

To her credit, Mac wasn't too sure what was going on. Late night/early morning lovemaking sessions weren't exactly scarce in the MacKenzie/Rabb household. There had been many times when she'd been blissfully awakened by the feel of Harm's mouth on her neck, his hand on her breasts and his legs between hers. They would make love slowly, exquisitely and then sink back to sleep, both with a satisfied grin and a new found exhaustion. It usually happened over the weekends, when neither of them had to get up early the next day. But she'd been known for turning the cards on him and waking him up an hour earlier, just to have a little session before starting the work day. He'd never complained though and it made her smile just to think about it. "Mmm. . .Yes. . .Harm." She was giving into him willingly, arching her body against his as Harm's hands roamed freely.

In one swift movement, Harm had her on her back, her legs parted and him kneeling between. She was still dressed, wearing some stupid pair of cowboy pajamas that, to him, made her look frumpy. He would take care of that soon enough. His mouth greedily sought out her own, kissing sloppily and thoughtlessly. It was as if he didn't know what to do next. His movements were wild, erratic, moving from one spot on her body to another. He was fumbling like a teenager and he knew it, but damnit, the way she was whispering to him. . . Alright, so maybe she wasn't whispering to _him_, but that didn't matter, he was too hard up to consider the semantics.

Under the crushing weight of his body, Mac was having difficulty breathing. That was the first sign that things weren't quite right. The second came in the form of kisses that were unfamiliar, coming from familiar lips. Harm's kisses were never sloppy and that wet. When he kissed her, it had always been with intent and passion. These were lustful, and only that. She realized what was going on and who she was kissing and resisted the urge to stop. Maybe this was something that he needed? Maybe, making love to her would snap him back? It was an egomaniacal way of thinking, but at the moment, she was desperate to get him back at all costs. Mac just couldn't live another day with him giving her that empty, hollow look.

Trying to get some semblance of control, she pushed hard, moving him off of her. They stopped kissing for a moment and she took that precious time in order to gain the upper hand. Mac straddled his waist and smothered kisses all over his face. "Oh yea, baby. . .I knew you liked it rough. . . Oh, Sarah, baby." She gulped and cast a quick prayer that maybe he'd remember before they went too far.

"What?" She said, stopping the kisses abruptly. No, this was wrong. . .This wasn't Harm. As much as she wanted this to help him, she couldn't do it. It felt as if she were cheating on him.

In that brief moment, Harm flipped her onto her back, knocking the wind out of her. His fingers were working on the shirt, his mouth still sloppily delivering kisses. He felt her hand on his chest, pulling him back away from her. "Sarah, baby?"

"No, I can't do this." She said, trying to push him off. He didn't budge and she was frightened as awareness of his strength came to mind. "Stop please!" She begged, but instead of stopping, he continued to kiss her. Had it been any other man, he would have been flat on his back, with three broken ribs and probably in need of a colonostomy bag for the rest of his life. But, this was Harm. . .the man she. . .loved? Then again, it wasn't. . .The person inside wasn't Harm anymore. "Harm, STOP."

The second he tried to touch her a bit more intimately, Mac had a knee jerk reaction – literally.

"Owwwww! You bitch!" Harm winced out, his hands coming to his crotch. The woman had kneed him and rather hard. So much for her loving him. "Why the hell did you do that?" He glanced up, blinking a few times to try and rid the tears.

Mac flipped on the light and then stood at the edge of the bed, one sheet around her body which was secured by her arms which were wrapped around her torso. She looked like a woman who'd just been raped. "I told you to stop." Her voice was soft, shaky, frightened.

"I thought you wanted me." He ground out between clenched teeth. "You didn't have to knee me!"

She didn't care what he was saying, there were things of her own that had to be said. "I can't do this with you. . .It feels wrong. . .It's like I'm cheating on Harm . . I can't do that to him."

"I _am_ Harm!"

No, he wasn't. At least, not anymore. The way he spoke, the things he did. It was just unfathomable that Harm would treat her that way. From that point on, to her, Harm was gone. "You're _not _him. . .You're just. . .not."

Despite the pain coursing through his groin, he tried another attempt to get her back into bed. "What if this makes me remember?"

Thoughtfully, she bit her lower lip. He had a point, but what would she be giving up for it? "I couldn't live with myself if it didn't. . .As it is, I feel. . .cheap." Why did it feel like she was cheating on him? Why did that make sense to her? Was it even possible to cheat on someone with themselves? The idea boggled the mind. "I love you. . .I love you too much. . .I can't do this. . .I'm sorry. . .I just can't."

The demoralized look in her eyes was his undoing. If she didn't want him, he would make sure she'd pay. Besides, all he had to do was flash his smile to have any woman at his beck and call. "You know what? I hope I never remember anything. . .I hope I never remember you." Harm's words were perfectly calculated. Through the short time that he knew Mac, he found the kryptonite to her Super Girl – himself. "The way you pine over him is disgusting. . .I hope to God I never remember. . .There's no way in hell he's going to get what I couldn't."

"What's wrong with you?" She said loudly, "Can't you feel it? Inside? Don't you realize there is something missing?"

Missing? "Besides my memories? Sarah, give it up. . .It's me or nothing."

"I love you, the _old_ you. . .The man who wouldn't treat me the way you just did!" Mac yelled, still clutching the sheet to her.

"But, I don't love you." He said, with such conviction. . .because it was true. _This_ Harm, this version, wasn't in love with Sarah MacKenzie.

No response in the world seemed appropriate for what he'd just told her. Mac's eyes remained on his for just a second or two longer. She lowered her head in shame, then turned and headed out of the doorway, down the hall and into the office. Just in case, she made sure the door was locked. Leaving the lights off, she sauntered to their desks, collapsing into the comfortable leather chair on his side. One of the worst things was being unable to escape her feelings and emotions. It seemed that everything held a memory that was tied to him somehow. Memories that she needed to get away from so that the walls around her heart could be safely erected and put back into place. The walls that he'd managed to crumble through the years.

Mac held the sheet rightly around her, trying to warm the cold she felt inside. _I don't love you._ With just one comment she felt as if she were outside McMurphy's almost five years earlier. The pain then was unbearable. The pain now was much worse.


	20. The Clincher

**Whew! Weird couple of weeks…. Alright, what every one (almost everyone) wants to know – I PASSED! Now just sitting on my six waiting for my license to show up so I can start practicing massage. Very cool! Kinda feel guilty and really bummed that a friend of mine didn't pass it. . . Sucks when all of your buddies don't do well. But, everything happens for a reason. **

**Now, the second thing that you might want to know (or the first ;)) is about the story. Will Harm be back? Well, wouldn't be much of a story if Harm isn't back now, would it? When will he be back? I believe two chapters from now. Yea, methinks chappie 22, which… guess what? Might have a little smut… Might have a little hitting of the sheets. **

**This chapter will, successfully, make you hate Vic more. Yay! And, man will you hate Hewitt, which works nicely, methinks. :grins: It's a little outrageous, but it's this whole plot idea that I had when I thought up of the story last year. . . Harm was always going to disappear, always going to have amnesia, always going to be weird with Mac and Hewitt was always… well you'll see/read. **

**Chapter 21 will be pretty hard to read, not as bad as 19 though. But there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. And chapters 22 and 23 will be very bright… ;) **

**Okay, on with the show… **

**Jackie**

**PART 20 – The Clincher**

January 23, 2010  
1230 Local  
Joint Legal Services Southwest  
San Diego, California

The one complaint about being a JAG was the odd flow of case loads. It always seemed that the moment the office was really busy, the worst cases would come in. In the instances when everything was running slowly, only the boring, ridiculous cases came in. Mac had learnt to deal with it and was pleased to have Lt. Commander Tali Mayfield back from Falls Church. "At ease, Commander, have a seat."

"Thank you, ma'am." Tali took a seat across from Mac and waited patiently as the older woman finished signing off on a small stack of papers before her. This gave her a moment to study the Colonel and notice that something was amiss. She seemed tired and her eyes were puffy, almost as if she'd been crying. It was no secret that the woman was suffering due to the Captain's absence, but normally she was able to hide it better.

Finalizing one more document, Mac pushed the papers to the side and glanced up at Mayfield. "So, how did the Wolf case go? I heard you won. . .I'm pleased." She smiled with earnest. Something inside of her always knew that Tali would make one hell of a lawyer. She was glad that the younger woman had an opportunity to be part of such a high profile case and work with herself and Sturgis.

"Jin Lei Xu really stepped up to bat for Wolf. . .She even brought the check which signature matched that of Timms' father. . .Apparently she'd seen the two together, knew they were broken up and decided to bribe Jin Lei into helping."

Mac nodded, it had been evident that Jin Lei was still, very much, in love with Kent Wolf. "What about the sentencing?"

Tali sighed dramatically. "I thought we were going to lose it, to be perfectly honest. . .the members took DAYS. . .She was given fifteen years, apparently the Marine Corps is trying to make an example out of her."

It wasn't too surprising. As of late, all Military branches had taken a stronger stance against wrong-doers. This had successfully kept many of them in line for fear of serving a maximum sentence. "Good. . .I assume her daddy's trying to get her out?"

"Yes, ma'am. . .Appeals began the very next day. . .With your permission, I'd like to handle the appeal if possible. . ."

The spunk and willingness to work had never been lost on Mac. Certain things about Tali Mayfield reminded her of her younger self. It was that drive to want to do more, despite the outcome, that made someone a good lawyer. "I'll ask the General to keep you in mind. . .Now, there's some other business to get to. . .You're not going to like it." Taking a folder off of her desk, she handed it towards Mayfield and sighed. Mac watched tensely as the younger woman read the information.

It seemed like hours had gone by until Tali's head rose up and a look of horrid disbelief appeared in her eyes. "Dear God." She covered her mouth with her hand, then shook her head. An indescribably sense of dread grew in her heart. At some point, she'd loved Gregory Vukovic, believing he was _the one_. Getting close to him had been a near fatal mistake. There was something inside of him, a ticking time bomb just ready to blow up and by the file on her lap, it seemed like the time tomb had two victims – Airman Vincent Arjan and Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. "Ma'am. . .If you need me to take the stand as a character witness. . .I'm there."

Mac sighed deeply. She'd felt almost guilty giving the file to Mayfield knowing that she was hiding away from a bad relationship with Vukovic only to wind up working with him. But, she needed all of the ammo she could get. "I do feel horrible about this, Tali. . .As a friend, I know. . .I saw the look in your eyes when you told me about the two of you. . .But, I trust you. . .I know you'd tell the truth and I need someone to show the members what he can be capable of."

Her willingness to be a witness would bring on certain lines of questioning of things she'd never been forthcoming about. "Since I will be taking the stand, I guess it's time I. . .tell the truth."

"The truth?" Mac creased her forehead in confusion. She only hoped this didn't mean something bad for her side. "What truth?"

Tali played with the edges of the folder as she worked up the guts to discuss an aspect of her life that she'd hid away from everyone. It was a stupid act, she knew that now, but back then, so much was riding on a successful military career that she decided it was best to keep quiet. "I told you once that Vic and I were engaged. . .That I left him when I found out that he'd allegedly raped a woman." When Mac nodded, she took a breath and continued. "I was posted far away from him and he found me. . .When I was dating someone else, he began to stalk us. . ."

"Yes, and you said that nothing had happened and that eventually he. . ."

"He raped me." The phrase was blurted out so quickly, it took Mac ten seconds to realize she'd heard right. Before the onslaught of questions began, Tali continued telling her story, hoping she'd get it all out on the table once and for all. "As a result, I wound up pregnant and had to. . .get an abortion."

Whatever Mac had expected Mayfield to say, this definitely wasn't it. The younger woman always carried herself so well around Vukovic. It was obviously a coping mechanism and her way to deal was by arguing with him, insulting him or beating his pants off in court – three things that Tali Mayfield did with finesse. "You never told anyone, did you?"

Mayfield shook her head. "Things in the military are either black or white. . .there is no in between. . .If you're a woman, there barely is a black or a white. . .sometimes. . .it's just. . .gray. . .I had a promising career. I love the Navy. . .I knew that he could turn around and say a zillion different things and I'd wind up looking like the bad guy because of what happened."

Mac sat silent for a moment, then picked up her pen and slid over a legal pad. "Tali. . .I don't want to question you about this more than necessary. . .You've opened it up for discussion. . .So, let's get through this now." She didn't want to sound insensitive and that was the exact reason why she wanted to get all of the details down on paper. It would give her something to work with, a way to formulize a line of questioning that would damage Vic's character and also prevent Tali from bringing up memories that she'd rather have repressed .

"I agree, ma'am." She reached over and took a proffered box of Kleenex from Mac. "Thank you."

The story was a difficult one to tell, but Mac had become accustomed to disassociating herself from the victim. Not that Mayfield was a victim, if anything, she was a survivor. She'd met Vukovic in OCS and was immediately smitten. He was charming, cute and just romantic enough for her. Before being a lawyer, she'd spent time as a cryptography officer on the US Carrier John C. Stennis where she'd served as a juror in a sexual harassment case. It was then that she'd found a calling for the law. That was all she ever spoke about during phone conversations between herself and Vic. For reasons unbeknownst to her, he started fantasizing about law school as well and the two wound up working as legal aids in the JAG offices in San Diego while attending law school.

Their relationship was kept a secret. To outsiders it seemed as if the two loathed each other, but in private, it was anything but. The night of their graduation, Vic had taken her to the top of a lighthouse overlooking the bay. He'd proposed then and she'd agreed, knowing full well that one of them would likely have to find some other area of the military to work in. The night before their wedding, she'd received a letter with no return address and no postmark. Its contents stated the details of an alleged attack to not one, but two women. As a sick form of retaliation, she'd left him at the altar. When the couple had discussed the letters, Vic denied the allegations, but Tali's gut told her otherwise. He'd grabbed her then, threatened to bash her head in if she didn't marry him.

By the grace of God, she'd managed to get stationed in Italy with hopes of never rubbing elbows with him again. Then, no more than three months later, when she'd managed to put it past her and date again, she'd spotted him. Tali was on a date with Captain Christian Mourning, a Marine that she'd met while attending a function at the US Embassy. Vic had kept his distance then, and even two times after that, when she'd spotted him again. The fourth time, however, was not a charm.

Vic tried to coax her back to him, willing her to believe that he'd change. By the end of that evening, it was obvious that change wasn't part of his vocabulary. He'd managed to get her to talk to him, if anything, just to discuss it all so that they could be 'friends' again. She'd foolishly agreed, thinking only of the chance of battling him in court without weighing her feelings into it. They'd chatted all evening long, had some drinks, but that's where it all went wrong. It was possible that she'd had a beer too many, though it was also probable that he'd slipped something into her drink at one point.

The next thing Tali knew, she was laying in the back of a sedan, naked, with Vukovic on top of her. It hadn't been consensual, not by the very least. And attempts to stop him failed. That evening, she arrived at her apartment and washed the remnants off, vowing never to let anyone know. Thinking like a lawyer, she could imagine herself being picked apart by a defense team claiming that the alleged crime was a method to destroy another officer's career. In the end, she knew it would be a black mark against her and was unwilling to take that sort of blow to a blossoming career. Three weeks later, when she was finally trying to get on with life, a bout with the stomach flu from hell, had her wondering if she'd, unknowingly, taken a souvenir from that horrible night.

Pregnant. When the little blue line appeared across the pregnancy stick, Tali Mayfield felt sicker than ever. She wanted to destroy Vukovic, to pick him apart piece by piece until there was nothing left. The reality had hit her like a ton of bricks. Taking up some leave time, she flew back to the States and had the procedure done under an assumed name. It was the worst thing she'd ever had to do. It was the one thing she'd always regretted and always prayed that God would forgive her for. But, in her mind, she had no choice. She just couldn't have a life growing inside of her that was conceive in such a cruel fashion. "From that point on I, worked harder. . .became a better sailor just to. . .to forget. . .The Navy became my life, my security blanket. . .I felt safe when I was wrapped up in cases and depositions. . .I live for this."

"It couldn't have been easy to be stationed with him in Falls Church." Mac frowned. As if her loathing of Vukovic wasn't bad enough this. . .there were no words to describe it. How the hell could someone like that be allowed to live?

Tali chuckled. "Surprisingly, it wasn't too bad. . .I have a knack for bouncing back. . .I don't let things bother me. . .I mean, I am cautious of him, all of the time. . .My coping method is to treat him the way I do."

Oh, and did she treat him well. Mac could cite the countless times that she'd had to step in and stop an argument between the two of them. She'd once compared them to herself and Harm when their heated lawyer battles were in full swing, now. . .the thought nauseated her. Whatever pain in the ass Harm could be, he'd never be the type to try to. . . She swallowed hard, trying not to think about the previous night. "You do a good job, Tali." Taking the legal pad, she ripped the page out. "I'm going to keep this safe, the last thing I want is for someone to get their hands on it." She stood and walked to a safe that was in the wall behind a painting of six Marines raising the US flag on Mount Suribachi.

"Thank you, ma'am."

(Surprising both women, the intercom came to life_. "Colonel, I know you instructed me to take messages but. . .the SECNAV just called and wants to meet with you in an hour at her home in Coronado."_ Petty Officer Coates' voice said over the line, it was clear that she felt the same way about the SECNAV as everyone else did.)

Mac carefully placed the page inside of the safe and slowly turned on her heal. _This is it_, she thought with only a tinge of remorse, _my career is over._ Since the whole fiasco with the island and rescuing Harm, Mac had been patiently waiting for the SECNAV to pull up on her broomstick and take her career away. She would have given anything. . .ANYTHING, to have Harm back, but it was the method in which the SECNAV carried herself that had her feeling uneasy. "Thank you, Petty Officer, I think I'll need a car to drive me." It was a safe bet that she wouldn't be in any type of emotional state to drive back after that meeting.

(_"The SECNAV has already sent a vehicle for you ma'am."_)

1420 Local  
Secretary of the Navy  
Caroline Hewitt's Mansion  
Coronado, California

A sleek, black, Crown Victoria came to a stop just in front of a rather large, certainly posh mansion. Inside, one Marine Colonel, Sarah MacKenzie was preparing herself for what certainly had to be the beginning of the end. She was sure, so damned sure that Hewitt would take her eagles from her. Maybe leaving her at JLSS this long was just. . .mercy. Or maybe the woman was waiting for Mac to let her guard down before attacking. Whatever it was, she was sure that her career was flushed down the toilet. Not that she regretted it. Saving Harm was worth facing any firing squad. "Civilian life, here I come." Mac said under her breath, then stepped out of the vehicle.

Outside of the home, a gentleman in a dark gray suit stood, waiting. "Colonel MacKenzie, right this way." They passed under a large Venetian style façade that made up the entrance to the home. Mac was escorted through the foyer and then pass a modern day 'great hall' with a large fireplace that ran the vertical length of the wall – a good 40 feet. The furnishings inside the home were stunning in old European detail with dark, robust colors. It was certainly not feminine, but it sure spoke of power and wealth. "Madam Secretary's office is just through there, she's expecting you." They came to the end of the room, the gentleman opened a door which opened to a window enclosed passage that lead to another door. "Her office is right in there."

"Thank you." Mac carefully walked down the passage with the feeling that something was watching. There had to be cameras in every section of this home, she figured. Military training, if not common courtesy, told her to knock before entering and once she was welcomed inside, Mac stepped through the door and closed it shut behind her before coming to attention just in front of Hewitt's desk. "Colonel MacKenzie, reporting as ordered, ma'am." Mac stood at attention so perfectly that not even the most hardass Marine Drill Instructor would have a thing to say about it.

Hewitt's chair was turned away from Mac, facing a large window that gave view to a costly garden that she'd recently put in for meditation purposes. She didn't have to turn around to know that MacKenzie was standing ramrod straight without even blinking. It was amusing, truly, all of those silly little nuances that the military did. "What do you think of my digs, Colonel?"

The question came right out of left field and Mac knew it was a test of sorts. It was more than likely that Hewitt was trying to see how cool she would remain under scrutiny and pressure. Well, the woman had another thing coming if she thought that this Marine would break. "It's very beautiful, ma'am."

"I don't suppose you've been in many mansions, have you?" She'd read MacKenzie's file extensively and though the details weren't there, it was obvious where she had come from. Just the fact that she'd been recruited from a small, crappy town in Arizona, screamed 'trailer trash' to Hewitt. It was a good position for her though, it would certainly work out in the long run.

At that particular moment, Mac's mind chose to bring up the Webb Mansion and Manderlee. Now THOSE were real mansions, estates, not some fabricated home, with no history, that was made to look old. "Some, ma'am. . .Not very many."

If there was one thing that Caroline Hewitt was known for, it was her 'shoot from the hip' mentality. It was what got her voted into office and what kept her reign so strong. No one wanted to mess with a ball buster. "Do you like me, Colonel?"

Okay, so maybe THAT question was truly the one coming out of left field. People in power seldom cared who liked them and preferred to point the dislike out rather than question it. This was certainly different and Mac was going to take that ball and run with it. Hewitt had left herself open for a beating and she was planning on putting it into her. "Permission to speak freely?"

Hewitt's chair whipped around and a concerned look slid into a tight smile. "Sure! Hell, at ease and take a seat." It was definitely a treat to see your mark in person, to sense how they are, how they hide things behind that ugly uniform.

"No, I don't like you. . . To be perfectly blunt, I loathe your type. . ."

"My type?" She didn't have to question it, she knew exactly what Mac was talking about.

And Mac knew it too and if she wanted an answer she would get one, MacKenzie style. "Those power wielding types that _screw_ with whomever they choose just because they can. . .just because there is an agenda."

Ah, the key word came into play. This whole thing was exhilarating, intense. God, she was giddy! The Colonel's spunk was excellent. "And what is my agenda?"

Coolly, Mac leaned back into the chair, folding her arms across her chest. It was normally a defensive posture, but with a slightly evil smile and that steely look in her eyes, it was anything but. "You tell me, ma'am. . .Though, I have a sneaking suspicion that my gender is a major part in it all."

_Oooh, astute too! I'm getting quite a bargain. _She thought to herself, then smiled with earnest. "Yes, you being a female plays a major role in my plans. . .There aren't that many women in the military with your position, Colonel. I don't think you realize that. . . See, the Navy, the Marine Corps, they brainwash you into believing that this is all about the good of service. However, there's much more to it. . .What's the good of service going to do when you're my age? Is that pension going to mean much when you're retired and watching GI Jane on DVD?"

Mac's brow furled, she didn't understand what the woman was getting at. "Ma'am. . .It's not a brainwash. .. I do what I do because it's the best way I can serve my country short of picking up an M-16 and going after the bad guys." She didn't quite see that Hewitt wasn't putting down JAG, like so many others did. No, she _did_ have an agenda, a political one.

"Let me spell it out for you, Colonel. . .How would you like to be the first female JAG?" The question hung in the air like a dense fog that was too stubborn to disappear.

Stunned would probably be the best word to describe Mac's feelings at that present moment. Out of everything that she'd had in mind. . .first, she threatens to torch her career and now a promotion? "Ma'am?" Yes, she was confused, utterly, seeing as Mac never really cared much about being the first woman JAG. The idea was nice, but it was the political ramifications that she didn't care to tango with. She remembered how many times both Chegwidden and Cresswell had their hands tied behind their backs because of political red tape. What was the point of having such a prestigious position when you couldn't do a damned thing about. . .anything? "You want me to be the first woman JAG? That's what all of it is about?"

Hewitt nodded. "It's a little more complicated than that, but, basically, yes, Sarah. May I call you Sarah?."

"No. . .and uncomplicate it for me, ma'am."

There was never a real sureness as to how this would go and how much she would reveal of her plot. Sometimes it was easier to keep one's motives quiet until it all comes to fruition. "I plan on running for President next term. . .I don't believe that President Garver will be voted for another one. . .He's too weak. . .He's a patsy."

Mac swallowed hard, it was difficult to stomach anyone speaking ill of your Commander In Chief, especially someone in politics. Richard J. Garver, preceded Bush as President in one of the most controversial elections in history. Nothing seemed to go right and the battles between Republican and Democrats was at an all time high. Garver was the middle ground, a man with no party behind his back, a fresh look with ideals that appealed to a country in turmoil. Since taking the oath into office, it seemed like all of his promises were put on the back burner, permanently. The Nation had made a terrible mistake. "Some of the President's motives are questionable, but he is still my Commander In Chief." She was curious as to what Hewitt was proposing. After all that had happened, it wasn't difficult to see Hewitt having Garver offed. It was a miracle no one had done so already.

The woman's chuckle offered no hopes that Mac's thoughts were uncalled for. "Colonel, you sound like I want to kill the man. . .No, I will take the position fair and square, but I need a little leverage. . .Me choosing to put a woman in such a high ranking Naval billet, is gutsy and it will get me the votes I need. . .Besides that. . .I need people on my side that I can trust. . . You've been known to not be swayed by one thing or another. . .It's in your records. . .You can do anything you want and no would question the mighty JAG."

"Yes, but they would question why I am there in the first place."

Hewitt shook her head. "The selection for Judge Advocate General is hellacious at best. No one would question it. . . And before you ask, you will make it unscathed, mark my words. . .I have a lot of people that need a lot of favors. And the others. . .well, let's just say I have enough dirt to pave their way to Hell. They won't object as long as you can do the job." She leaned back coolly, placing her hands behind her head. "Now, I do need something from you."

Mac couldn't help but snort. "It always comes with a catch, doesn't it, ma'am?"

"Two things actually. . .I need that Vukovic investigation to go away. . .and if it doesn't go away, I need you to throw the trial."

Ah, it was all starting to make some kind of sense to Mac. The whole 'female JAG' thing was a way to wet her appetite. To soften her up so that she'd decide to bite and take her hands off of Vukovic. "What does he have on you?"

"Excuse me?" Her eyebrow shot up in confusion.

"Vukovic. . .What the hell does that. . .slimy, credent have on you? It definitely has to be something juicy if you bend for him the way you do, _ma'am_." Oh, but Mac was far off base. In fact, she was playing in a different ball park all together.

"He's my son, Colonel." Once the words were uttered, an eerie silence came over the room. It really hadn't been Caroline Hewitt's intention to give that tidbit away, but now that she had, things _would_ fall into perspective for MacKenzie, whether she wanted it to or not. Inwardly she cursed, but her face never mirrored her distress, she was just a little too tired to constantly hear the berating her son took. "He's been pegged all wrong. It's like the system has it in for him. . . Gregory is really a good kid. A bad lawyer, but that doesn't make him a bad man."

For her part, Mac was speechless. It was nearly a full minute later when the brunt of it all hit her like a ton of bricks. Vukovic was Hewitt's son? Suddenly, it all made so much more sense. "You had him spying on me, didn't you?"

"Yes. . .I needed to make sure no one got in the way of you making JAG. . .Then this year happened and he got involved with that Jarvis fellow. . .I tell you, Gregory was reprimanded severely for that one."

It was the way Hewitt said it that made everything click into place. A high wattage light bulb turned on, illuminating something that was so obscured it boggled the mind. "By someone getting in the way, you meant Harm." She got it now, clearly. Vic's vendetta against Harm wasn't really about her, more so about Hewitt. "Vic is not the 'good man' that you assume he is, ma'am. . .He's had a shady past." She wasn't about to say just how shady a past it was. Mac doubted that Hewitt would be receptive anyway.

"I noticed some. . . condescension between you and Gregory. . .and it seemed to grown when Rabb came into the picture. . .And it was sad really, because you and Vic would make a very nice couple."

Mac felt like she was sucker punched into oblivion. "A _nice _couple?"

"Yes, quite stunning really. . .He can give you so much more than that Captain of yours."

The picture she was painting wasn't a pretty one and it was doubtful that there was much she could do, though she would die trying. "_You_ had him go after Harm. . ._You_ tried to have him killed. . ."

"I did NO such thing. . .It's not _my_ fault that Gregory is a little overzealous when it comes to procuring what he wants most. . ."

Procuring? Now she sounded like a race horse with people vying for the highest bid. "And what is it that he wants most?"

"You, Colonel. . .But I suspect you knew that."

Yes, Mac had suspected something of the sort when she saw his obvious disdain for any man that came near her. He was distant, almost like jilted lover. "You are insane if you think I would get involved with someone like him."

Hewitt banged her fist into the desk and stood, trying to loom over the Marine. "And you are just another stupid woman, Colonel. . ." Calming down, she slipped around the desk and leaned against the edge, just a few feet away from Mac. Her voice changed to a nauseating, saccharin sweet tone that sounded like nails to a chalkboard. "You shouldn't disregard his charms, he's very much in love with you. . .You two would make a dashing couple, I think."

"In love?" The thought made her sick to her stomach. "Vukovic isn't in love with me. .. I don't think he has a concept of what that word means."

"You underestimate him, Colonel. . .And I think a union between you and my son would be very good for him. . .Maybe take away some of the black marks in his life. . .God knows what it would do for you. . .You too need a little stability in your life."

Stability? Well, Mac couldn't argue with that point, but somehow the words stable and Vukovic just didn't rub together. "You _do_ realize that he and I can not be involved?. . .It's against the good order of the Navy and against the UCMJ."

Hewitt knew it and already considered her options rather well. "Which is why he will leave the Navy and work in the private sector."

It was greatly apparent that Hewitt had been considering it all at great lengths. The term 'disturbing' came to Mac's mind. A white picket fence home with a psychotic serial rapist as her husband. It wasn't quite the fantasy life she'd pictured. "And what if I refuse all of this and prosecute Vukovic to the fullest extent of the law?" The need for terms was becoming clear. Times, terms, something that Mac could latch onto to sway things around. Over her dead body was she just going to roll over in terms of Vukovic. She'd always had an odd feeling about him, a notion that there was something out of sorts on how he came to JLSS. "If you've spied on me enough, you'd know that I am not the type to turn the other cheek."

Damn Marines. Hewitt knew she would, more than likely, be stuck when it came to the willful Sarah MacKenzie. The woman wasn't the type to be swayed easily, so more drastic measures needed to be applied. She needed to hit Mac where it hurt the most. "So far, no one knows that Vukovic is my son. . .I've managed to hide it for years. If he goes to trial, God knows what might come up. . .and let's face it, everyone knows he's been doing favors for me. Hiding the paper trail might become impossible, the media has a knack for connecting the dots . . .Now, if the trial never gets anywhere, he'll just fall by the wayside and my involvement with him will not matter."

"You're afraid that if he gets convicted, it will come out that he is your son and you've been doing special favors for him. . .That would smudge your candidacy."

Hewitt had known she'd gone too far with Vic, but she wasn't aware just how sick he was until it was too late. "In Washington, time _does not _heal a scandal.. . . Improper command influence has destroyed the careers of so many." She shifted nervously, eyes cast down in shame. "This is a punishment of sorts and I shouldn't be held responsible for my childhood mistakes. . .I gave him up when I was a child really. . .He went into the foster care system and I went on with my life. . .Forgot about him . . .When I decided to find him again, he was in a bad home, with parents that really didn't give a damn about him. . .When he was in trouble with the law, I made recommendations for him to join the Navy, I funded his studies at law school. . .I had the money and figured it was a good idea, a way to make amends. . .I may not have had any rights after I gave Gregory up, but he is still my son. My flesh and blood. . . .It took a while for him to forgive me and he has. . .I am willing to keep him happy at almost any cost."

"You can just rig the case, you don't need me." Hey, if she was already influencing so many, what was a few more?

"After all of the investigation and all the pushing from Loftness, I can't. . .That's way too many pickle jars for me to stick my hand in. . .I need you to botch it."

"And if I refuse? Or if I win anyway and Vukovic is still convicted? What then?"

Persons in power always had a plan B, Hewitt's plan came to fruition only after hearing of Harm's health issue. "Then I'll _really_ go after the only thing that really seems to matter in your life. . .Captain Rabb." Once again the Marine was at a loss for words. "He's of no use to you now anyway. . . I know about the amnesia and how permanent it is. . .Think about it. . .Your job takes a huge chunk of time as it is. . .Do you think you'll have the time to be at his beck and call while he fights it? If he wants to fight it. . .After a while you'll resent him for never remembering. . .You'll come to hate him only to find that a promotion has passed you by while you were caring for a man you are no longer in love with."

Mac shook her head in disbelief. What had happened? How did all of this happen without anyone realizing that they were putting a monster in the SECNAV's seat? Tears burned her eyes, which she successfully blinked away. "I could _never_ hate him. . .And I definitely can't stop loving him."

Hewitt sighed dramatically, "It looks like you need some time to consider it. . . At the end of the year the board is meeting to decide whether or not General Cresswell will remain JAG. . .You have until then."

"And you think I should feel appreciative?"

"It's a rather long time. . .I'm also giving you time to hang yourself with Rabb. . .Trust me, Colonel. . .I've taken care of and buried two husbands. . .These jobs and relationships don't work together, _period_. . .It _is_ better to have loved and lost."

Mac stood up and then leaned over Hewitt's desk. "I don't believe that. . .I love him, you aren't going to take him away and substitute a poor excuse for a man, no matter who's son he is. . .Find yourself someone else to help you get to the top, because I am not playing. . .And don't worry, I'll keep your dirty little secret." As she turned to leave, she stopped and turned on her heal. "However, if anything happens to Harm, this conversation . . .someone will hear about it, mark my words, ma'am." With that she headed out of the house, only to hear Hewitt's words echoing in the halls.

"Empty threats, Colonel. . . Empty threats. You don't have the GUTS to play hard ball with me!" But a threat non-the-less. It was clear, in the SECNAV's mind, that Sarah MacKenzie wasn't just a push over. She would have to find another way and maybe make good on her promise to rid herself of Rabb. Maybe she should have pushed Vukovic harder? Her son or not, he was of no use to her if he couldn't do what she needed him to. Originally, she didn't want Harm killed, it would be the first death on her conscience. Now, it didn't sound like such a bad idea.


	21. Someone Else, Not Me

**Berry special thanks to V, for betaing my wild and crazy stories. For putting up with long hard hours of Sahara and Ham. And my obvious disdain and love of punctuation. I will buy you a new broom, please pick one. Hehehe.**

**Shouldn't take too long to post the next few parts, I'm all written up until 25, however, deleting, changing, purging, re-arranging. Writing a story is like fixing your closet – there's always lots of stuff, you keep the things you don't need and toss out the rest. Then, two days later, you realized you tossed out something you needed.**

**One thing, yes I realize Mac is a little low in pay grade to become a JAG (in chapter 23, methinks, Harm tells her so and Mac agrees), but does Hewitt seem like the type of person that even, remotely, has a clue how the Navy runs? Nah, didn't think so. Don't read more into the story than it is. Hewitt's trying to find a way to bait her to throw Vic's case. If giving her such a high ranking position wouldn't work, or, at least wet her appetite, she'd go after Harm.**

**Can we see that I like governmental conspiracy theories or what? Plausible or not, unless it's etched in stone (and even if it is) it doesn't mean it can't happen. Aren't you glad I'm not in office? ;)**

**Jackie  
PS: HAPPY MOTHERS DAY TO ALL YOU WONDERFUL MOM'S OUT THERE!**

**Part 21 – Someone Else, Not Me**

February 27, 2010  
1310 Local  
Robert's Residence  
San Diego, California

Watching the Roberts' twins play seemed to always have a therapeutic quality. It healed the scars of her heart and soul when she was longing for the children she'd never had and the man who didn't want her. When Harriet and Bud had made the move to San Diego, Mac's life had changed. She found herself with a family again. Somehow, that reliable therapy was doing nothing this time. The void in her heart was still there and so was the pain. Lately, the only thing that seemed to go right was work. Wasn't that always the story of her life?

She turned to Harriet, plastering a fake smile that she knew her friend could see pass. Mac was doing a lot of that lately. "How was Harm?"

Ah, Harm. The topic always came up no matter who she was speaking with. The answer had been the same for the last month. "It's not getting any better. . .I think it's futile." She took a gulp of her diet coke wishing it were a little stronger. And that was another thing that she'd been doing a lot lately – stopping herself from drinking. "He didn't want to see me."

"He'll come around." Harriet was always positive of that. To her, Harm and Mac's relationship was set in stone, he just needed to remember.

To Mac, that was getting harder and harder to believe. "I'm not sure of that anymore. . .At this rate, I don't think he'll ever remember."

One month earlier, after her conversation with Caroline Hewitt, she'd gone home to lick her wounds. Would she tell him about Hewitt's plans? Of that, she wasn't sure. In his state, he wouldn't understand the complexity of it all. On top of that, she didn't want to scare him with Hewitt's threats. But when she arrived, all Mac found was a note on her bed and the scribble that read: _Goodbye._

More than anything she was worried about him and where he could have gotten to. His well being came before anything else at the moment, and after driving around the surrounding neighborhoods for a good hour, she'd received a call from Trish, assuring her that Harm was safe, that he needed time. With a heavy, broken heart, Mac agreed. Two days later, her life was thrown off of its axis. . .

_**(FLASH BACK)**  
_January 25, 2010  
1545 Local  
Burnett Residence  
La Jolla, California

For the first time ever, she felt like such a stranger around Trish Burnett. It was as if she had no right to be in that house anymore, almost like riding the curtails of a bad divorce. "Trish, I'm sorry about all of this. . .I promised you I'd take care of him and. . ."

Trish pulled Mac into the house and gave her a tight hug, an act that she wasn't expecting, not by a long shot. "Mac. . .You love him, I know you do. . .He told me what happened."

The color drained from Mac's face. What had happened was personal, private and it embarrassed her to know he'd betrayed that trust. "I'm. . .I. . I don't know what to say."

"Did he hurt you?" When her son appeared at her doorstep two days earlier, Trish was leery to welcome him in with open arms. She saw it, a change that made her fear him somewhat. There was something to his walk, his talk, his way of operating, that told her so much had gone wrong. He'd taken a cab, claiming to find the address in Mac's address book. No more than two minutes since he'd arrived, Harm was telling her about Mac's rejection. What had hurt the most was hearing the words so clearly: '_I don't love her.'_ Hearing those words had hit Trish almost as much as if they'd been said to her.

Watching him drink was also a surprise. Not that Harm had never drank in front of her, but it was the two back to back shots of bourbon that disgusted her slightly. She'd called him on it, stating that if he was acting this way it had a lot more to do than just his hurt pride. His obvious affections for Mac weren't gone and they never would be. '_Watch me forget.'_ He'd said, then poured himself a third shot of bourbon before disappearing out to the patio.

When Mac arrived, Harm was upstairs sleeping off yet another round of binge drinking. It allowed her to speak to Trish and in turn find out one tidbit that hurt her beyond belief – she was losing him again.

"I'm glad he didn't hurt you." Trish began, as they both took a seat on the sofa. She reached her hands out to the younger woman who she hoped would have become her daughter-in-law. Those dreams were fading now, falling into oblivion. Despite Harm being alive, she couldn't help but feel the same way as when Harm senior had gone missing. Part of her was starting to die and it was clear that she would now mourn the loss of her son. "I'm a very strong woman. . .Losing my husband made me this way. . .Through time I've grown a thick skin. . .A lot of that had to do with Harm's chosen profession. . .I kept. . .kept expecting him never to come home."

Without the details, Mac was already seeing the parallels. It was marginally comforting to know that someone else close to Harm saw what she did. "It feels like you've lost him, doesn't it?. . .I feel the same thing."

Only it wasn't just the lost that Trish felt, it was the one thing she'd have sworn Harm would never, ever make her feel – fear. She feared him and these new mood swings of his that were neither called for nor explainable. He seemed to snap over every little detail and even grabbed her wrist a little too tightly when Trish made to take away yet another shot of bourbon. She kept her hand over the bruising on her wrist, then glanced up at Mac with a look of guilt. "It's more than that, Sarah. . .He's changed too much. . .I'm afraid of my own son."

Standing, she walked slowly to the sliding glass doors, peaking outside to the ocean. Its ebb and flow matching her own inner turmoil. This is her son, a man she should be helping and this was the only way she knew how. "Frank and I. . we believed that he'd remember. . .But, the last time we visited him at the hospital. . .I lost my faith. . .The doctor had introduced us to another physician, Sean Haslinger. He specializes in neurological illnesses, specifically comas and amnesias. . .He runs a rehabilitation center in Oregon and believes he can help." She raised her hand to stop Mac from questioning. "It's a small place, only has about fifty or so patients. . .It's small enough so that they will give him the help that he won't get here."

"I never thought that it would come to something like this." Mac considered getting help for him, but not sending him away to do so. Then again, maybe it was for the best? Maybe the reason for him not remembering was the stress that she was putting on him to remember. "He'll protest."

"He doesn't get a say." Trish sat right next to Mac, taking her hands in her own. "Frank and I looked into it, in depth. The doctor presented us with information. The amnesia that Harm has is rare. . .There have only been five cases recorded. . .The only one that ever remembered was a woman who had been at that rehabilitation center in Oregon."

Mac bit her lower lip, it was the only thing that could stop her from crying. She _was_ losing him again and this time, it was willingly. It hurt like hell, but she was willing to let him go if it meant he would get better. "Is there a possibility that I can drive him up with you?"

Trish looked down at her hands. "The point is that. . .he'll have little to no contact with us. . .Someone will come get him."

"What?" It sounded somewhat ludicrous. "How can that make him remember anything?"

"Doctor Haslinger said that disassociation and a strange location has often sparked things back to life. . .He said something to the likes that the separation stops the patients from creating an alternate reality, which is what he believes the amnesia is. As a result, it triggers them to want to remember the past."

"And you've looked into this. . .'Course you have. I'm sorry, I'm just. . .numb." Mac buried her head in her hands and took a deep breath. "Trish, I don't want him to go. . .I don't want to lose him."

At the top landing, Harm was simmering, his anger growing with each passing bit of information that floated up to him. They were getting rid of him, not that it was too much of a bad thing, he would be happy to be rid of all of them. "What is _she_ doing here?" Cooly, he moved down the steps, his eyes shining with anger towards the woman whom his former self loved. He hated feeling something towards her now because the feelings weren't his own.

"Harmon, behave son, please." Trish stood up, but kept the space between herself and her son. "What are you doing?" She watched, horrified as he crossed the living room and made his way straight to the bar. "Don't pick up that glass."

Harm didn't even look at the woman, he just took the glass, filled it half way with bourbon and sipped. Always one to be polite, he turned towards Mac, waving the glass in front of her. "Would you like one, Sarah?"

Mac felt like she was going to be sick. "I don't drink. . .you know that."

He did too, it was one of the few things that they'd discussed when the two of them were still in Bethesda. "Ah, yes. . .alcoholic, I forgot."

The admission cost her more than she was willing to give. Mac wasn't sure if Trish knew and, even so, this wasn't the way for the woman to find out. "I'm sorry, Trish. . .I think I'd better go." She took her purse and cover, then stood up and walked straight towards Harm. "I love you. . .And somewhere inside you know that. . .Somewhere inside you remember us. . .Stop fighting it."

She reached her hand out to touch him, but Harm pulled away as if he'd been burnt. "Don't touch me. . .Just go, get out of here!" He pointed at the door, eyes full of anger and hatred.

"Harmon Rabb Junior!" Trish yelled, coming to her feet, but Mac waved her off.

"It's alright, Trish. . .It's alright." But, it wasn't alright and it would never be. As Mac stepped out of the house, she felt that void in her heart again, the same one that had opened up outside of McMurphy's almost five years earlier. Insider of her Corvette, the Marine allowed herself to break down and shed the tears she'd been holding at bay since this whole mess began. "Return to me. . .please. . .Return to me."

As she drove off, she would never know that inside the house, Harm was wrestling with his own demons. No, he didn't remember her, only the dreams and nightmares. But, he felt something that he didn't want to feel for her, not if the memories did not come back to him. "How could you treat her that way, Harm?. . .She loves you!"

"But I don't love her." Harm yelled back at his mother, throwing the glass of bourbon across the room. It crashed to the floor loudly, shaking up the already tormented woman. "I have feelings for her, yes. . .But, I don't know why. . .I can't remember why. . . At the moment, the only thing I love about her is a killer body, which she won't let me touch anyway."

That was the final straw, Trish had had enough. She crossed the room in a flash and raised right hand which connected with his left cheek. "While you are under _my_ roof, you will behave. . .I don't care what it is that you remember or don't remember. . .There will be no more drinking. No more yelling and no more treating me like a rag doll. . .I _am_ your mother."

Harm grinded his teeth, trying to stop himself from doing anything he was sure to regret. "You're my mother and you want to send me away?"

"I want to help. . .And that's the only way I know how." By the look in his eyes, Trish knew Harm was battling a surge of emotions. She was curious to know what was inside that head of his, what thoughts made him act in this fashion. He wasn't her son at the moment, the young man who was always polite and courteous. Even when he was upset with Mac, he'd never treated her like that, never. "You can't object, Harm. . .Someone will be here tomorrow to pick you up." She took a chance by placing a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to feel the tension leave him. "I love you. . .You are part of me, you'll always be no matter what happens. . .I'm not sending you away. . .I'm trying to help you because none of us know what to do. . .Damnit, don't you _want_ to remember who you were?"

Warm tears slid down his cheeks. Did he want to remember? "Sometimes. . But, I'm scared. . ." He wasn't afraid of what people would think or what he would lose. No, Harmon Rabb Junior was afraid of the unknown. What if remembering meant that the old him would return to his life and this new him would be in limbo? He didn't want to hurt anyone else but what if that was exactly what would happen? Inside, he continuously calmed a rage that he didn't quite understand. A rage that was starting to take over him. Maybe Sarah and Trish were right? Maybe he needed help. "I'll go willingly. . .But, the moment I get tired of it all. . .I want you to come get me."

"It's a deal." Surprisingly, when she opened her arms, Harm slid into them, his sobs wracking his body, his tears wetting her shirt. "I'll be alright." All she had to do was believe. . .

_**(End Flash Back)**_

. . .Mac was surprised that he'd willingly given in. It was a good sign, but any hopes of getting him back went down the drain when he'd refused to take anyone's calls. The only information they had about his well being were the weekly calls from doctor Haslinger who seemed to only communicate bad news. This week he'd stated that Harm had become worse, more violent. That the man that she loved had attacked another patient. She'd ventured to Oregon twice, each time to find him in a wheelchair with a glassy look in his eyes. She'd demanded to know why he was drugged, but the records showed it all. He had become violent and unpredictable. Her worst fears came to fruition – the man that she loved was gone

"I've been very self sufficient. . .independent. . .And I need him. . .it's. . .crazy. . .Harm's the only man who. . .wants to take care of me, but knows that I don't need to be taken care of. . .He understands that I can stand on my own and that I don't need him to carry me. . . And yet, I need him. . .I feel this. . .I feel complete around him. . .I feel like I am the only one who could get him back, but I don't know what to do." Harriet's silence spoke volumes. Lately it was as if no one could figure out what to say around her anymore. Finishing her soda, she stood up. "I have to get going."

"So early?" Harriet stood when Mac did, then placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mac, you need to take care of yourself. . ." It was disconcerting to see the almost robotic way that Mac was living. "Did you. . .Did you think about seeing Doctor Locke?"

Mac shook her head. The last time she saw a shrink, it hadn't solved anything – mainly because she refused to step out of her shell, but it wasn't going to solve anything now either. If anything, it would make her feel more miserable. "No, I don't need to see Doctor Locke. . .I'm not going crazy. . .I do need to get going Harriet. . .Monday's gonna be a bear if I don't finish up some paperwork." She stepped through the house, tossed out the empty cup then went to the living room to find Bud playing with the other kids. "I gotta go, Bud. . .I'll see you on Monday."

"So soon? But. . ." A look from Harriet told him not to go any further. "Monday it is ma'am."

She hugged the kids goodbye and then stepped outside. It was getting warmer and the days were so beautiful and pleasant. Yet she had no one to share them with.

The ride home had turned into a road trip of sorts. Mac had decided to take a ride into Coronado and the surrounding areas of San Diego. She wanted to be by herself, but with that want came the fear of being alone in her home. It wasn't a person she feared nor an invasion by an unwanted guest. Mac wasn't afraid of being lonely or keeping herself company – years alone taught her how to deal with that. No, her fear was realized the moment she passed by a liquor store on the way home two days ago.

If asked, she really couldn't tell how it got into her freezer. Maybe she was suffering her own amnesia that made her forget that just two days ago, she'd driven to the liquor store and purchased bottle of Stolichnaya. There wasn't a particular brand that she preferred, back in the days she would drink whatever her father had bought, which was usually cheap liquor. With Chris it really didn't matter what he brought home as long as it had enough alcohol that she could use the drink to ease the pain. Thinking back, it was a miracle that she'd never suffered from alcohol poisoning. Then again, she suffered through worse – an accident that had taken the life of a friend.

Sighing, Mac glanced out over the bay as the car eased to the apex of the San Diego-Coronado Bridge. Yup, she definitely preferred California to Virginia. The weather alone was a good reason for the move. Lowering the windows, she breathed in the ocean air which hadn't failed to put her in a good mood – until now. Her last flight to the center in Oregon had been horrible. The turbulence just plain sucked and to top it all off, Harm wouldn't see her. She should have called first, but something told her she needed to be there. That _he_ needed her. But the moment that she arrived he'd ignored any of her advances. For one sweet, brief moment, he'd looked at her as if he knew her and then. . . it was gone.

If dealing with everything Harm-related wasn't enough, she still had Vic's case to contend with. While it wasn't thrown out as Hewitt had wanted, it was taking forever to go to trial – no doubt Hewitt's doing. And then there was just Vic, who was back at the office with that 'cat that ate the canary' look. He knew that she knew and was using it to drive her methodically nuts.

Arriving at Tidelands Park, Mac slipped the Corvette into a space and then carefully got out. She set along one of the walking paths, her tennis shoes pounding the pavement in a rhythm that quickened as Mac turned the walk into a run. It wasn't her intention to go for a run, but this pent up emotion needed release and she was tired of crying. The clothes she was wearing – jeans and a t-shirt, were far from being work out clothing, but it would do. What she needed was to be worn out, exhausted to the point that she could get home and just crash.

Pushing her body, Mac ran faster, sprinting down the path until she stumbled and fell. "Shit!" She yelled loudly, slapping the pavement beneath her in anger. Thankfully no one had seen her and no one was helping her. The last thing she needed was another person trying to help. She was fine, damnit! She was a Marine. But, she was a woman too and the woman inside of her was hurting. Wrapping her arms around her legs, Mac rocked back and forth. Tears were burning her eyes. "Damn it."

_(AN: Rehab center doesn't exist. . .;) If you think that the Doctor is on Hewitt's payroll. . .You just won. . .well, I am not sure, but you won. ;) – The name of the hospital – Selene – comes from the name of the character from Underworld. I chose Wilsonville because of some pictures I saw of an abandoned hospital/asylum of sorts.)_

March 6, 2010  
1212 Local  
Selene Rehabilitation Center  
Wilsonville, Oregon

The clothing was comfortable enough – black, faded sweatpants, a white t-shirt, bathrobe and those uncomfortable pair of slippers which became filthier by the days – that seemed to be the only comfort he had within the walls of Selene Rehabilitation Center. Everything had an asylum feel about it – maybe because that was partially the point of sending someone to Selene? At least he wasn't inside of his room, rotting away from boredom. It had been his fault that he was shoved inside his tiny cell of a bedroom – he demanded things and the persons who ran this facility weren't into demands or threats. Come to think of it, the threats were probably the one thing that did him in.

It was quite a shock to wake up one day in a dingy gray room with clothing that were just a size too large. Even worse was to look at your reflection in the mirror and not find that normally clean shaven, cropped hair man staring back. That normally crisp reflection came back in the form of a man with longer hair and some sort of beard which, while not long, hadn't really been maintained. The man that was reflected wasn't Harmon Rabb Junior, not anymore. Scared, Harm had slammed his fists into the door, pleading with someone to help. It wasn't until morning that reprieve came, but it wasn't quite what he'd hoped. Answers to his questions came in the form of an injection that was painfully jabbed into his arm.

Liquid relaxation flew through his veins, making his whole body feel like Jello. It was that day that he could have sworn he saw Mac. Yes, Mac. Not Sarah.

Harm remembered.

He remembered, though he couldn't say what had happened between the ejection and waking up at the hospital. That part wasn't even part of his dreams or nightmares. Doctor Haslinger had suggested that trauma due to the ejection had caused his brain to malfunction. As a result, he needed to remain at the rehabilitation center until the danger had passed. It seemed reasonable enough to Harm until demands to contact Mac, Mattie and his parents had been denied. _"It's my right to contact my family, Doctor. . . You can't deny me that!"_ Claims of it damaging his treatment being the reason.

Haslinger had one good reason to keep Rabb's family away – a monetary reason. A certain ambitious woman by the name of Caroline Hewitt had her fingers in that pie as well and was paying good money for Haslinger to keep Harm locked away. Yes, he'd been in on it since the very beginning – conning both the Burnette's and Mac, showing them facts, figures, graphs and even pictures of the institute. They were sold. In the events that they would visit Harm (which was a little too frequent for his taste), the man would be kept on high dosages of mood altering drugs. It had all paid off in the end, though that damned Colonel was difficult to side step.

Feeling like a captive, it was only logical for thoughts of escape to formulate in Harm's mind. It was one of the basic parts of hostage training that was instilled in every military man and woman's mind. Thing is, he wasn't a conventional hostage. Those who worked at the hospital wouldn't immediately help him out knowing his supposed 'mental condition.' One evening, though, after his nightly sedating injection, he'd remembered something from a book he read – that cardiovascular exercise would prevent the drugs from really working. He began with push ups and even when the muscles on his arms burned painfully, he kept his rhythm, his mind going back to the Academy and the penalties for misbehaving. Satisfied that the drug hadn't completely effected him, Harm laid in bed and waited for an opening which came at eight in the evening – chow time.

The past days he'd had dinner in such a haze, it was impossible for Harm to even clearly identify what he was eating. This time, the surprise was on the poor kitchen worker who he grabbed. Threatening to break his neck, he walked with the man down the hallway. But, Haslinger's men weren't really into threats, nothing really bothered them much. Any other thoughts of escape were blown to bits by a jab of a syringe into his body and the beatings he received as punishment. Haslinger had the man power to keep him in control and used it at will. The decision to cracking a deal with Haslinger and promising to behave would probably cost him something in the long run as Harm had every intention to try again.

"Harmon? Harmon!" He barely noticed someone calling his name until he felt a tap at his shoulder from Doctor Kimberly Watson, a psychiatrist that ran that group sessions for the institution. "Hello." She smiled at him, happy to finally get his attention. "Your turn."

Kimberly was the only person that Harm could stand. The woman, probably in her early thirties, was pretty, smart and sometimes funny. Oh, and she was the only one that hadn't jabbed him with a needle. That sure as hell was a plus. No, as far as he remembered, she'd vehemently protested against their treatment of patients. "What was the question?"

"Memories." She rolled her eyes at him. "The question was about memories. Since you've been here which one pops into your head the most?"

Harm took a quick glance at the other members of his group which consisted of seven others – two women and five men, all of them suffering from one neurological condition, few of which he could actually pronounce. "Memories, huh?" Since he'd woken up, the memories had been endless, but there was one in particular – the first one he had for reasons he couldn't quite explain. "Well. . it's. . .ah, private." And a welcomed memory which had caused him some grief in the past.

"That's usually the case isn't it?" Not willing to give up, Kimberly turned her full attention to Harm. "C'mon Harmon, no one is going to judge you."

Oh, he wasn't afraid of anyone judging him, it's just that the memory was quite. . .personal, if not a little embarrassing. "Fine." He sighed, then leaned the chair back. Playing along seemed to work and if he had to sit through these ridiculous things, he might as well enjoy himself. "It's about. . .about my girlfriend, Mac." One glance at Kimberly and Harm knew that she was tired of hearing the name. "It's an odd memory because it didn't really happen."

Robert, a manic depressive with an obsessive compulsive disorder, snorted. "If it didn't really happen then it can't be a memory, can it?" It seemed the man really couldn't help himself from commenting on everyone's story.

"Robert, we've talked about this. . .control the urges." Kimberly said, then turned back to Harm. "Harmon, explain."

It was clear to him that it had to have been a hallucination – a result of smacking his head on the floor when the Admiral's chair came out from under him. "I was at my place in DC, sitting in bed, reading a newspaper. . .When I glance up I see her coming out of my shower. . .I had the shower made of those clear blocks. . .And it was just a few feet away from the bed. . . Anyway, Mac's standing there, hair slicked back, her body covered in this tiny blue towel. . .what wasn't covered in that towel was covered by drops of water." He decided to skip the rest of the story – like the part when she tells him that she couldn't get enough, nor the part where they almost. . .

"Harmon, you said it didn't really happen?"

Harm sighed deeply, boy did he wish it were real. "That week I'd hit my head and kept having visions of Mac in all sorts of settings. ..In that one. . .the person really coming out of my shower was my girlfriend at the time, not Mac. . ."

"But you saw Mac?" Kimberly cringed, she could already imagine the slap that Harm must have received when the girlfriend found out he was thinking of another woman. "That was interesting enough."

"I'm not sure interesting is the right word." He chuckled, smiling at the look on Mac's face when he'd told her about that little snafu. "Anyway, it's one of the first things I remembered since. . .since I woke up here."

From all of her patients, Harm was the one she liked the best, not that she gave him preferential treatment. He was just real and unproblematic – a man that really didn't belong in this place – but he did. At least, as far as Haslinger told her, problems with Harm's brain prevented him from leading a normal life. It just wasn't safe for him or for others if he left. "Okay, Robert, you're next."

It was almost customary for him to drown out everything, Kimberly had called him on it various times – that he had a tendency to be a dreamer. But, it wasn't a dream, he had a life outside of these walls, one that he was determined to get back to. He just needed to find a way. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Harm stiffened, resisting the urge to flip the person onto their six. He knew who it was.

"Doctor Watson, are you finished with Mr. Rabb?" Haslinger wasn't well liked in the facility, the man had that uncanny ability to get under everyone's skin and that included Kimberly Watson. Of course, that might have to do with a few sexual innuendos that he tended to reserve only for her. Kimberly's subtle approach – kicking him where it counted when an innuendo went just a bit too far – didn't seem to throw that dog off of her scent. "I have the results of his tests."

She was almost sorry to see Harm go. "Yes, Doctor Haslinger, Harmon may be excused." She rolled her eyes and then turned towards Harm with a smile. "Good luck."

"Yea, thanks." Harm said, standing up and then waving at the group. He followed Haslinger out of the entertainment room and through the hallway with large windows that faced a beautiful field. It was sickening really, how the hell could a place like this be built on such beautiful land? Harm took the steps up to Haslinger's office, something that was rather large and just overly posh for this type of setting. It was rugged, manly and it made Harm want to puke. "Should I take my regular seat?" He waved his hand over to the reclining chair in the corner of the room.

Haslinger sighed deeply. Rabb was testing his patience again, as he always did. This was the hardest money he ever had to earn, Hewitt had no idea what she was up against, not that he was going to tell her. "Yes, go ahead." He slipped into his chair, behind the rather large, hunk of wood that was his desk. All in all, with the dark red rugs, the collection of stuffed animals and the odd collection of weaponry, one could say that the good doctor was trying, just a little too hard, to act like a man. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll be straight with you. I'm afraid your mental condition is. . .deteriorating."

Shocked didn't quite seem to be quite the word to cover Harm's emotions. For the life of him, he still couldn't put the finger on whatever mental illness they claimed he had. In fact, the only times he ever felt like shit was when they were jabbing needles into his veins. This was truly alarming. "But, I feel fine. . .Better than I have in a long time."

"This disease won't make you weak, Mr. Rabb. . .In fact, physically, you're perfectly healthy. . .The effects of your mind, that's a different story. . .It will, undoubtedly, effect the parts of your brain responsible for inhibitions and rage. . .You'll become a danger to yourself and others. . .To top it off you will not remember those episodes at all. . .It's. . it's kind of like an amnesic seizure of sorts. . .That's the best way I can explain it."

Alright, so Harm never claimed to know any medical mumbo jumbo. Everything that had been told to him was basically Greek. But, with a little clarity, he began to realize that medical names were _never_ given, just a paraphrase of what the illness _could_ be. The term 'vague' came to mind. "If I'm becoming a danger to myself and others maybe it's due to the shit you're injecting into me. . .If you stopped using those things on me, I'd probably be fine!" He stood up quickly, the chair tumbling back behind him.

Knowing that Haslinger would have his finger on his 'magical button' (the one that called in his goons) Harm stood far enough away to not be deemed a threat. "It's not the medication, Mr. Rabb! The medication is a prevention. . .If we don't administer it, you might go into one of those episodes and God knows what you will do. . .How can I explain to your family, to your girlfriend that you _hurt_ yourself and I couldn't stop it?"

Ah, the family/girlfriend card, it had worked numerous times before, but at this point, Harm was tired of believing something that, he felt deep inside, wasn't true. So, he did what he knew was the best course of action and went along with it. "I. . .I don't want to hurt them." Dramatically, he hung his head down, trying to seem like a person who was just being torn up inside about the notion. It really was a horrifying thought, but Haslinger had to be wrong. Part of him felt like this was all a ruse for one reason or another. Who had he pissed off now? "How long do you think I'll be in here?"

Haslinger breathed a sigh of relief, for whatever reason, it seemed that his most unruly patient was starting to come around. He wasn't going to question it and he wasn't going to tell the truth either – that Hewitt had paid him to keep Harm away from society and if he remembered, he would be paid extra just to make sure he never saw life outside of those walls. "That's difficult to say. . .Days, weeks, months, years. . .I'm trying to help you get out as soon as possible, but you have to work with me, not against me. . .And you have to keep the faith."

Faith. Perhaps that was the only thing really keeping him going. "I think I can do that. . .I have no choice." Bending over, he picked up the over turned chair and righted it. "Is that it? I, ah, still have another hour of therapy left."

"Harmon. . .This isn't that bad, you know? It could be worse." Part of him felt guilty for it all, for lying to a perfectly healthy man who badly wanted to rejoin the normal world. The other half of him only cared about the money and the promises of destroying his family if he didn't do as told.

Harm nodded. "I know. . .Thanks." He stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him. "Damnit." He said under his breath, then began a slow trek through the facility and towards the group. Passing the expanses of the hallway he couldn't help but look out to the world outside of the hospital. Things out there were still moving, living, and he was stuck. It was completely unreasonable to him that neither Mac nor his folks had come to see him. Then again, there was that one day that he'd seen her. Between the haze of the drug and his anger at the men that administered it. . .He remembered her and it couldn't have been a dream, not with the haunting, hurt look in her eyes.

Pressing a palm against the window, he hoped the sun's rays would warm up this cold he felt inside. Damnit did he miss her, more than he'd thought ever humanly possible. Maybe there was a danger to feeling too much. Still, even if he wound up in this very same spot, he wouldn't have changed the months he'd spent loving Sarah MacKenzie.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he took a deep breath, then turned to continue down the hall. Sounds of laughter drawing him back to his circle of fellow inmates (he preferred to call them that). As he went to step into the entertainment room, Dr. Watson was finished with the session and stood packing up her briefcase

Out of everyone in the hospital, Kimberly Watson had been the only decent individual. The one that even served as an advocate when he was unfairly treated. Maybe she was his way out? "You did good today, Harmon. . .I think you'll be out of here in no time, no matter what Doctor Haslinger presumes."

There was something to the way she said his name that struck a cord. Was she a woman scorned? Or was she a woman harassed? "Ah, about that. . .Is it possible for you and I to speak in your office?" He made sure not to use the word 'privately' which seemed to scare most.

Kimberly sighed. "I was going to try to escape early, but sure. . . You look like you need a friend at the moment." She walked off ahead of Harm, leading him through the hallways and to the tiny office that she called hers. It had a nice view, but the size of it reminded him of that office at JAG Headquarters that Chegwidden had banished him to for heading to Paraguay. Talk about one memory he wasn't interested in making a permanent one. "Close the door and have a seat."

Harm did as told, then hesitantly, slipped into the chair across from Watson. "This is going to sound odd, actually. . .I'm not quite here for the reasons you think I am. . .In fact, I'm not supposed to be here at all. . .Whatever Haslinger has said, he's talking about someone else, not me."

One of the things that all of the healthcare personnel on the staff had come to familiarize themselves with, was the constant yarn that patients loved to spin. If they had it their way, none of them were supposed to be here. "Mr. Rabb, you do realize that I've heard this speech before. . .it's tiring."

"It's not a speech." He defended, then sighed deeply. Damnit, was everyone in this place losing their minds? "I don't know how I got here. . . No one will tell me anything other than I was being violent. . . But, what if it's a lie?"

"Why would we lie to you?"

Why indeed. "I don't know, but something isn't right. . .I can feel it." He bit his lower lip, then rubbed his hand against the hair on his face. "I have a woman that I love. . .I am not even sure if she came here to see me. . .I was pumped full of drugs and in a haze. . .Can't you see something wrong with that?"

Oh, but she could and yet, her orders were simple: shut up and do your job. "Harmon. . .I can't do anything about it. . .Haslinger's. . .he's the boss and my life revolves around this now."

"You're young, intelligent, you can't tell me that some creep is going to tell you what you can and can't do."

Kimberly chuckled dryly, life wasn't that simple. "And because I am so young, I did a lot of stupid mistakes. . .Wound up with a DUI and nearly killing someone because of an addiction to painkillers. . .Trust me, this is it for me. . .So I need to make the most out of it."

Hmmm, guess that meant she wasn't going to be too receptive when it came to Harm's great plan. "I guess that means you won't help me escape."

"Escape?" Now she was really rocked out of her socks. A confused expression over came her pretty features. Out of everything that patients had asked of her, this was certainly the most farfetched plan. "I'm going to ask you to leave now, Harmon." She reached for the phone, attempting to call security.

Harm raised his hands in surrender. "Please don't call them. . .All they'll do is inject me with some crap while they beat the shit out of me. . ." Dejectedly, he stood up and made his way to the door. Pausing with his hand on the door knob, he turned slowly to face her. "Doctor Watson, I am a normal man. . .I am a private investigator and a military officer. . .I fly planes for the Navy and before that I used to be a lawyer for the Navy. . .People like me don't just lose it without reason. And I don't believe my crash had anything to do with the real reason I am here. . .I have a whole life outside of these walls. . And I have a bad feeling about the woman I am involved with."

Kimberly nodded, many of the people in here had the same feeling. "You're afraid you'll lose her to another man?"

"No." He shook his head. "I'm afraid that she's in trouble and I won't be around to help." Releasing his hand from the knob, he crossed the office and sat back down on the seat. By the look on her face, Harm had her attention. "Look into my files. . .I'm sure you'll find something missing. . .You're all I got left in here. . .Damnit, do I look like a man that is a danger to others or himself? You certainly know I am not drugged at the moment and it's not the medication talking. . .Please, help me out."

Still, a few years in this place, hearing stories that went out of control had left their mark on Kimberly Watson. "Harmon, I'm going to pretend this little chat between us didn't happen. . .Now, it's lunch time for you. Get out of my office."

Harm stood up and sighed. "I'm sorry for bothering you. . .Thank you for your time, Doc." He closed the door behind him, then leaned up against the wall, hoping to God she kept her word. If news about his little talk with her got out, God knows what would happen to him. He hoped that out of some miracle, she would look into his files and find something wrong. He hoped that she would believe him. If not, it was time to start finding a plan B or die trying.


	22. Yearning

Okay, there is a MORE ADULT version to this one. If you want it, you know the drill, e-mail me or leave your e-mail on the review. E-mail is jackie(at)jagfullengagement(dot)com - Yes, boys and girls, they hit da sheets! ;) And the couch. LOL! and the shower... anyway...

There may be a delay on part 23, like you guys will care after this part:P Oddly enough I have parts 24+ 25  
written (well 25 is almost finished) but, Part 23 has me stumped on how to  
write it and what to do. It's written, but missing a page or so and... dunno, might re-write it. Just letting you know. Yeah, issues. :P

Enjoy!  
Jackie

PS: Did anyone catch Grey's Anatomy. WOWZER! If you did, no spoilers! ;)  
Some people haven't watched it yet. COUGHS V. COUGHS ;)

Just had to say - WOWZER!

**Part 22 – Yearning**

March 25, 2010  
1925 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Mac stepped into her home and let her briefcase, which she would normally take up to her office, crash on the floor with a loud thud. Next, she chucked her high heels and removed the drab green jacket dropping them haphazardly on the floor as she entered her home. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not the mess she was making, not the 'autopilot' that she seemed to be functioning with. Work was work, she could litigate with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back. She'd been a lawyer for so damned long that was the only part of her life that really hadn't suffered. But, on a personal scale, Sarah MacKenzie was a mess. She'd lost a little weight, enough that Harriet was constantly bringing her something to eat during working hours. She wasn't sleeping more than two to three hours a night and it showed – make up wouldn't hide the dark circles anymore.

This house that she'd rebuilt with her bare hands – a house that was beginning to feel really cozy and comfortable because she was sharing it with someone – its welcoming aura had disappeared. Mac could swear there was almost always a cloud hanging over the land, the waves lapped up the shore with a furiousness that she'd never seen before, not even during a storm. It seemed like everything, even the world, was off kilter without Harm.

And then, there was that fucking bottle of vodka which was chilling in her freezer. She'd yet to touch it, to crack open the seal, but it was there, waiting. That was a moment of pure weakness and desperation – a need to stop feeling for an hour or two before she'd lost all sense of sanity. The roads which she took home passed at least three liquor stores, something that she hadn't noticed until three days prior. She'd spoken to Trish then. (_"Sarah. . .I have a little bit of bad news." _There wasn't a hello from Trish or any pleasantry, which was good, Mac never wanted to beat around the bush. _"It doesn't look good. . ." _The woman had broken down, heart wrenching sobs echoing over the line. It had been Mac's undoing. _"I'm sorry. . .I'm so so sorry, Sarah. . .He can't come home. . .He's still not himself, he's. . .We've lost him..")_

"_He's never coming back?"_ She'd gulped, swallowing down the lump at her throat. Tears were stinging her eyes. Trish had explained that the doctors needed to run more tests, to figure out what was making him act so destructively. Until that was assessed, he was a danger to himself and others. As such, he needed to be watched, monitored.

Still on autopilot, she headed into the kitchen and as she did every day, rummaged through the cabinets, the refrigerator and freezer. Her eye immediately caught the bottle of vodka. Gulping, she pushed it aside and pulled out a frozen dinner – chicken pot pie. Now, she couldn't quite remember when was the last time she'd actually cooked or ate a decent meal.

Microwaves were an ingenious device, especially when you were cooking for one. She wondered if that would always be the case. Would she always wind up alone? After placing the meal in the machine, Mac threw the door closed and then gave in.

She reached into the freezer and pulled out the bottle of Vodka.

When was the last time she drank? Ah, yes, when Coster was tormenting her life and Dalton had been murdered. Jesus, had she been sober that long? Without thinking much, she cracked open the seal of the bottle and allowed the bitter aroma to waft into the air. The beeping of the microwave startled her, as if she didn't know it would announce the readiness of her meal. With shaking hands, she took the pot pie out of the microwave and peeled off the plastic around it. She then took a fork and shoved it into the pie, destroying the top crust. Mac nearly devoured the meal. She was much hungrier than she'd anticipated.

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw something move. In a swift movement, she pulled her service weapon out of the drawer in the kitchen. Lately, she didn't feel safe, not one bit. What Hewitt proposed for her didn't come out with an out clause. If the woman wanted her as bad as Mac thought, she'd do anything. Heart beating a million miles a minute, she walked to the kitchen window and peaked out. There was nothing there, nothing at all. "Jesus Christ, Mac. . .You're losing your mind. . ." She spun around and was immediately greeted with the bottle again.

Now, more than ever, she realized how much a drink really was needed. If she was going to lose her mind, she'd rather do it in a way that she didn't remember. Reaching into the cabinets, she took a glass, then turned and took the cold bottle of vodka. For some reason, she couldn't drink inside of the house, so she stepped through the sliding glass doors and out onto the deck.

Leaning against the railing, she watched what was left of the sun disappear into the ocean. She poured the vodka into the glass, filling it to the top, then toasting to the misery that her life had become. She hesitated for a moment, her hands shaking, spilling some of the contents to the sand below. "Sweet oblivion. . ." Mac raised the glass to her lips and took a small sip. It was both a familiar and strange taste, certainly strong and bitter. But, the moment in which the liquid filled her mouth, she had a second of clarity – this wasn't a welcomed habit. Harm wouldn't be proud of her anymore if she did this, would he? No, she knew he wouldn't. Holding onto the wooden railing, she spit the liquid out, then used the sleeve of her greens to clean the inside of her mouth. "Oh God." What had she become? What was she doing to herself? Where was that strong willed Marine?

Mac's body fell forward, knocking the bottle of vodka, causing it to fall onto the deck and spill its contents. Her body was overcome with a series of strangled sobs. "Oh God. . .Damnit."

In her state, that 'Marine Radar' wasn't working. She didn't notice the man, standing a few feet away from the steps that lead from the deck to the beach. He sported a beard and hair that was sticking out at odd angles. His eyes penetrated her, watching with great interest the scene unfolding before him. Slowly he padded along the deck, nearing his target.

The man ran his hand down her arm and tensed slightly, waiting for the Marine to spin and pounce on him. She didn't disappoint and he managed to just duck away from a punch. Then her eyes, wet from tears, bloodshot and sad met his. "Harm?" Mac's mouth fell open, she looked him up and down, and shook her head slightly. This had to be an illusion, a hallucination of sorts. Then again, in illusions would he have a beard? Would he look so tired and disheveled?

"Mac. . .." Her name on his lips was sweetness to her ears. "Mac." His mouth descended on her own, his lips caressing hers before he kissed her fully. Damnit, he'd missed her so much. All Harm wanted to do was hold her and never let go.

At first, Mac tried to fight off the kiss, but when his lips caressed hers, she knew that it was him - really him. Surrendering to him, she pressed her body against his, snaking her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. The kisses were so sweet, it should have been a sin. "Oh God, Harm."

He tasted the vodka on her lips and as his tongue dueled with her own. It was something that he planned to discuss with her, but, for now, it would be put aside. He could feel a warm wetness on her face which slid down to her lips making their kisses salty and sweet at the same time.

She kissed him again, tasting her own tears on his lips. Nothing could ever compare to having him back in her life. Almost instantaneously, that hole in her heart had started to fill. Mac kissed his face, his eyes, his chin and even nuzzled the fuzz that was growing on his cheeks. She'd never seen him in anything past a five-o'clock shadow, even in the private sector, Harm was still, every bit the clean shaven, military man. Her hands slipped under the t-shirt, finding his skin that she desired to touch. "I love you." She couldn't get enough of him.

With every touch, every caress, she realized it more and more – it was him. He returned to her. "I love you, too." Stopping their caresses for a brief moment, Harm leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. "I've missed you so much. . .I've missed you so, so much." He didn't know what else to say, fear of breaking this magic spell prevented him from saying anything else.

"Show me how much." Mac whispered, her command sending him to action. She felt his lips on hers again, kissing her for everything she was worth. It was almost like their first time, only more intense. Feeling herself being lifted up, she surrendered herself to him and wrapped her hands around his neck, holding on for dear life. She felt him struggle with the sliding glass door and resisted the urge to chuckle.

Finally inside, Harm pinned her against the first wall he found, their mouths still mingling, kisses becoming hotter with each moment. He heard her wince the moment he she hit the wall and his concern for her stopped all other action. "Did I hurt you?"

"Winded." She said in a soft voice, then claimed his lips again. "I'm fine. . .don't stop." Her right leg wrapped around his thigh. "Please, just don't stop." Mac sighed, pleased when she felt his hands lifting her upwards, their bodies coming even closer if possible. She wrapped her legs around his waist and felt the separation from the wall behind her.

Hands wrapped around her body Harm walked them towards the sofa, dropped Mac onto it then covered her body with his own. "Sarah. . ." He whispered, his mouth coming to that area on the side of her neck that always seemed to excite her. "Sarah, I love you."

To her credit, she hadn't thought about the _other_ Harm – her Harm had, unknowingly, done an excellent job of showing her who he was and what she meant to him. But, there was something about the way that _other_ Harm said 'Sarah' and the proximity of where each of them were at the time (she was determined to consider them two different people) that triggered some sort of state-dependant memory. Trying to repress those memories with every fiber of her being had worked until now. "Don't."

Harm had always prided himself on listening to her wants and needs during their intimate union. He loved hearing her call his name or those little songs that gave him chills. But the moment she voiced anything negative he would stop instantaneously. He was never sure why that was and figured it was maybe a subconscious through process knowing what she'd went through with Chris and her father. He never wanted her to think of him in that light, ever. So he paid close attention and found it to be most rewarding in the end. "Sarah?" He leaned his forehead against hers and didn't release his hold on her. "What's wrong?"

"Don't call me 'Sarah.'" Mac said softly, hoping not to scare him away. She needed this, needed to rid herself of frightening feelings when being intimate with Harm. He loved her and he wouldn't hurt her. She knew this, but needed validation. "It's a long story. . .Just call me Mac."

"But. . ."

Pouring her heart into a kiss that she hoped would stop any questions, Mac kissed Harm again. She wasn't ready to deal with the repercussions of him knowing what _could have_ happened. Harm would blame it on himself and that was the last thing she would let him do. Neither of them was at fault, though. If she wanted to point fingers, part of the reason he was almost killed had started with her. "Harm. . ." She cupped his face in her hands and smiled. "I love you." The smile that she received in turn was as dazzling as ever. Damnit, he was beautiful, even in his current state.

Once Mac's arms wrapped around him, Harm felt it – a joyous homecoming that could, hopefully, destroy the trials and tribulations of being – effectively – locked away. He couldn't stop kissing her if his life depended on it. The taste of vodka had long since disappeared and what remained was that sweet taste of Sarah MacKenzie. Harm sat back on his heels, peeled his t-shirt off and tossed it across the room. Mac's hands fumbled with the tab and fly of his jeans, sliding the zipper all the way down. Leaning forward, he began to remove the blouse she was wearing, pausing to kiss his way down her chest to her abdomen as he removed each button.

Raising herself up, Mac helped Harm remove the offending piece of clothing, then rested back against the cushions as Harm hovered over her. She pulled him down, kissing his chin, cheeks and the nape of his neck. Her hands roamed over his broad back, slowly passing over every scar that she knew by heart. Thankfully, there weren't any new ones there, only the ones from a past that she wished she could erase. Harm's eyes had closed, his breath hitched with every new circle she drew along his spine.

If touches had the power to heal, then Sarah MacKenzie definitely had the magic touch. He could literally feel the tension rushing out of him when her warm hand caressed his back, his arms. When they tangled in his hair, he fused his mouth with hers once again. Harm couldn't quite remember ever being lost so much in someone. Frankly, no other woman had ever touched him the way that Mac did.

Mac's fingers were tangled in his hair, urging him to continue. "Harm. . ."

That sexy grin was firmly in place, his eyes taking a dark green shade, the way they usually did when he was aroused. "I'm not making love to you Mac."

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. "What!"

"Not here. . .not on the damned sofa." He couldn't help but chuckle at the quick one eighty she made. It was a mean trick, he knew, but it was worth it, just to hear her laughing.

Sighing happily, Mac's index finger ran up and down his arm, her nail slightly biting his skin. "Well, we do have a bed. . .a nice and comfy one. . .upstairs." She sat up and kissed him.

After discarded the rest of their clothing, and threading her fingers through his own, Mac tugged him slightly, then led him up the stairs and towards _their_ room. The clouds that had governed the sky most of the day seemed to part and the moonlight bathed the room with a surreal glow.

Harm sat at the edge of the bed, glancing up at her. There was something wrong, he could tell. It was almost as if she were afraid of being there with him. "Mac." He slid to the center of the bed and waited. Whatever she was wrestling with was huge, he could tell and only hoped he hadn't returned too late.

Slowly, Mac crawled onto the bed, kneeling in front of Harm. His large hands wrapped around her wrists, then pulled her up so that she could slide onto his lap. It felt as if he hadn't seen her in years. As it was, he knew it had been a few months since he last saw her at the airport, trying every bit to maintain her strength. He hated leaving her then and realized, maybe a little too late, just how much of a suicide mission it was. Those thoughts left him as they made love, her warm body pressed up against his own.

The sensations were Earth chattering, familiar and wonderful. She barely noticed the tears that were streaming down her cheeks until she tasted them in their kisses. He was home. He returned to her. They were together again, nothing else could express the feelings running through her. "Mac?" His concern made her heart swell even more.

To calm any fears she kissed him again, deeper, then assured him, between a moan of pleasure that she was alright. "Happy. Tears."

After their union, his body practically went limp, a great deal of it leaning against Mac. She cradled him. Harm couldn't understand why his body was shaking so much, but the relief he felt was awe inspiring. Damnit, he'd missed her like no one should ever be allowed to miss someone. Every day that went by this dull ache increased in his chest. So did the pressure of knowing something was wrong but not doing anything about it. What had driven her to the bottle again? Surely not him. _God, please not me. . .don't let her drink because of me._ If that happened, he couldn't forgive himself.

Mac wrapped herself around him even tighter, her fingers stroking slow circles along his back. There was so much he needed to know, but where would she start? For now, she was just content to have him back, to be in his arms again.

A few hours and two more love making sessions later, Mac lay against him, head resting against his chest. If this was a dream, she never, ever wanted to wake up. "Mac, how did I get into that place?" It was the one thing he never understood. Yes, Haslinger had lead him to believe that he'd become violent. But, what had led to that? And why couldn't he remember?

"You don't know?" If anything, she'd figured that Harm would remember what had happened. Then again, the doctors had warned his family that, in his particular case, patches of his memory would be missing. "What is the last thing that you remember? Do you remember the accident?"

Harm straightened up slightly, propping a pillow up behind his head. He pulled Mac close to him, keeping her over his body, he needed that now – physical contact. Did he remember the accident? It was the reoccurring star of his nightmares. "Skates and I were going after a MIG. Tex and Clipper were shot down. . ." He stopped, a lost look in his eyes. "Did they make it? Did Skates?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah, they ejected and the SAR crew picked them up pretty quickly. . .They were shaken up but not hurt."

"Good. . .Good." God, the last thing he needed was to lose a member of his team. "The plane started to malfunction. . .And all of the alarms went off, it was clear that the MIG had a lock on us." He gulped as his mind raced back in time. He was fighting with an unresponsive plane, much like he was the night before Mac was scheduled to marry Mic. This time, it wasn't a storm that he was up against, but another plane which lowered their chances of coming out alive. "We started ejection procedures and I remember feeling the canopy blow off and the jolt from Skate's seat. . ." Sighing, he looked deeply into her eyes. Harm could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks as he let her in on a little bit of a secret. "This might sound silly. . .some people find it silly. . .I mean pilots aren't supposed to really feel when we're in the air." He was babbling and Mac's fingers on his lips stopped him. "Thanks."

"No problem." She grinned.

Why did he feel so stupid to admit to her that he cared? That he even took her up with him on that plane. "I had a picture of you. . .ah, taped to the console." Some other pilots did the same thing, but he never had, ever. Not even of his father. "I remember looking at it, waiting for the seat to eject. . .Then I noticed that I was looking at it for a second too long. . .It was like May 2001 again. . .My mind was going one hundred miles an hour. I tried the manual ejection. . .It took forever, but it worked. . .When I ejected I sailed into the explosion of my plane. . .I felt this, surreal pain to my leg and kinda realized that I was either burned or shrapnel had managed to stab me."

Mac nodded. "It was a shrapnel wound. . ."

"The last thing I remember was hitting the water and getting the harness off. . .It was stormy, raining. I prayed to God that there weren't any sharks in the water and that my leg wasn't badly injured. . .Then I blacked out. . .When I came to I was. . .in that. . .that. . .asylum, in a gray room with clothes that didn't fit me."

Talk about missing a chunk of memories. Alright, so Mac preferred him to forget the in between, the drama between the two of them and the time that he'd spent in rehab. "We were notified that you'd gone missing." And subsequently, her life felt like it had fallen apart. "I tried to. . .to. . .you know? _Find_ you and it didn't work."

"You mean, how you did back then?"

"Yea." Damnit, maybe if she would have remembered quicker. . . "What are you doing?"

Harm was wiggling his way out from under her. "Well, for one thing, I smell. . .for another, I need a shower." He managed to get slightly free, Mac's legs tangled around his prevented him from going any farther.

"You're not going anywhere, Sailor." She reached out, wrapping her arms around his waist, tugging him back into the bed. She kissed him softly, chuckling as his hands went to a particular spot that always tickled.

It worked, and he managed to get a little farther off of the bed, but Mac had reached out to stop him again. "Maaaaaaac. I stink."

"No, you don't." She disagreed, grinning as she pulled him back again. "I've always liked that manly smell on you. . ."

Harm sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "Yeah, now you'll have to burn the sheets."

"Hmmm, always liked the smell of Harmon Rabb Junior on them." Her eyebrow quirked up suggestively and it was all Harm could do not to give in.

He covered her body with his, holding her arms above his head as his mouth fused with hers. "What if you joined me?" He asked between kisses, looking for a compromise of sorts.

"Sold." Mac rolled out from under him, then reached out a hand which Harm took. "Get the hot water started, I'll grab our clothes."

The instant spray of hot water as Harm stepped under the stream was very welcomed. He moaned in pleasure as the water ran down from his head to his torso and down his six. Showers at the hospital were never luxurious. The water was always cold and usually smelled of some sort of mineral. There were always at least twenty or so guys with him.

Reaching to the shower caddy, he took his shampoo and lathered up his hair, scrubbing briskly. It had gotten quite long, something that needed to be fixed quickly. As the shampoo suds combined with the water, Harm could feel a pair of eyes on him, but he ignored it, playing nonchalance.

Mac's eyes welcomed the site, as they always did. That was until she saw the marks, many of them on his arms. They were roundish, purplish, bruise like. "Harm?"

The alarm in her voice had him instantly alert and worried. Her chest was heaving in anger, her hands reaching out to the marks on his arms. He'd forgotten about them. Somehow the moment he saw Mac standing on the deck, any other thoughts vanished. "It's okay. . ."

Okay? How the hell could those marks be okay for anyone? "Who did this?" Her fingers gingerly rubbed over the area. Mac eyed his other arm, finding matching marks. "Who did this to you?"

"At the hospital. . .they, ah. . .they used it to keep me in line. . .injections. . .guess they jabbed me too hard."

He guessed? Mac clenched her jaw in anger. "Why did they do this?. . .How could anyone do. . ."

Harm's fingers on her lips stopped her. "Mac, I don't want to talk about that now. . .I know we have a lot to say but. . .I can't right now. . .All I want to know, at the moment, is you and me. . .nothing else."

Mac slid her arms around his neck, then stood on her toes, inching up to kiss him. There was so much to discuss, she knew, but he was right, and at midnight, it was hardly the time for a long discussion. "I Love you, Harm. . .I missed you so much.. . ."

"I know… believe me, I know…" His lips came down on hers, kissing deeply, his heart and soul regaining a light that he thought that place would extinguish. Turning, Harm pressed Mac against the shower wall, his mouth trailing blazing kisses past the nape of her neck and to her shoulder. "Wanna try and see if we can run out of hot water again?" He said between kisses to her chest, only to be met with a laughter that was rumbling in her chest.

"Trying to kill me, Harm?" She smiled against his lips, returning each kiss he gave her. "Dunno, I need to get back to bed." She really didn't want to stop, but her body was begging for a rest that she hadn't had since he went missing. "And I meant to use the bed to SLEEP. . . worn out here . . .you should be too." Frowning, she glanced up at him, her mind remaining on the marks on his body. What sort of a place had they stuck him in? What had she done? "We have plenty of time to get caught up."

Harm sighed dramatically, resting his forehead against hers. "I suppose. . .but you're addicting."

"So you've told me." She said saucily, then reached for the soap. "Turn around, I'll get your back."

Smiling, he did as told, trying not to let her hands on him affect him. "Aye aye, ma'am." Thank God for cold showers.


	23. Closing The Divide

**This part is long. It will cover how Harm escaped, them talking about what happened with Hewitt and Vic. Mac pointing out that it's possible that Vic had something to do with it. Harm getting back together with their family and Mac and Harm confronting the OTHER Harm who tried to force himself on her.**

**The next part with get interesting. Harm talks to Hewitt and she divulges a little more of her plan with the help of some alcohol. ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**PART 23 – Closing The Divide**

March 26, 2010  
1245 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Harm was laying on his back diagonally across the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around Mac who was laying atop of him. Her head was resting on his bare chest, his breathing matching her own. Despite all of the turmoil, she felt peace there, almost as if no one could touch them. But no one was that invincible.

Sighing happily, he thought back to earlier that morning. . .

At around nine in the morning, he awoke to the smell of coffee wafting in the air along with the scent of _real _food. His stomach was protesting the nearly two days that it had spent without nourishment. Rolling out of bed, Harm slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then went in search of the obvious source for such wonderful smells. Unabashed, he leaned against the kitchen bar, watching Mac preparing her, now famous, blueberry pancakes that he'd developed an addiction to.

Mac had certainly sensed him, out of the blue her Harm Radar was back in action and stronger than ever. Maybe there was something to the notions of belief and hope? "Morning." She said without turning and heard him chuckle in response.

"Guess your Marine-dar is working again?" He said in a sleep laden, sexy voice that she'd never gotten sick of hearing. Straightening, he entered the kitchen, then stood behind Mac, wrapping his arms round her waist. "God, I missed you."

Smiling, she wrapped her own arms around his and leaned into his embrace. "That goes double for me." Mac turned in his arms, then pulled his head down, kissing him softly. She was getting used to the new facial hair and though she preferred the clean shaven Harm, this really wasn't too bad. "Mmm." She groaned in protest, then broke the kiss, releasing herself from his grasp when she smelled a pancake about to burn.

"I'll set the table. . .You want both juice and coffee?" He knew the answer already, living with someone it becomes almost second nature to pick up on certain things. Still, he knew he was away for a while, changes did happen.

"Yea, please." Mac turned to watch him filling both their glasses with orange juice and smiled. How is it that someone could even make _that_ look sexy? Yea, guess you could say she was biased.

Breakfast, though pleasant, had an awkwardness about it. They both knew there was something lingering in the air and by the look on Mac's face and the dark circles under her eyes, it was obviously _big._ Certainly, without a little more sleep, his head wasn't ready to wrap around anything other than the present. So, at his urging, they'd wound up in bed again. They didn't quite get to the sleeping part until about an hour later though. . .

"What are you thinking about?" Mac's voice startled him, but it was the concern in her eyes that did him in. Concern? Or was it. . .fear? No, it couldn't be.

Sighing, he stroked his hand up and down her naked back, his fingers tracing lazy patters on her skin. "You, actually. . .Was thinking about this morning." The blush that tainted her cheeks could only be described, in Harm's mind, as one thing, cute. "You're awfully cute when you blush, Mac."

Chuckling, she brought both her hands to his chest, then rested her chin on them. It was her turn, "Hmmm. .. bet you don't know how cute it is when _you_ blush. . .and, I've noticed, sometimes you blush all over." She grinned when he shyly threw a hand over his eyes to cover his face as he shook his head. "I kinda think it's sexy too."

"Oh, I'll show you sexy." Without warning, he rolled Mac onto her back, eliciting a loud giggle as his body covered her own.

In the movement, Mac's hands found their way to his arms and, without realizing, pressed just a little too hard on a fresh bruise on his right bicep. She saw him wince slightly, they try to fall behind his macho man façade. But, she wasn't going to buy that. "I hurt you."

He shook his head. "It just hurt a little. . .you didn't do it on purpose." Harm meant to argue when she slipped out from under him, but instead sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard while she fished through her drawer. "What's that?" He asked, eyebrows raised in question as Mac presented him with a medium sized, white jar with funky Asian lettering. Harm scrunched up his nose when upon opening the jar an odd, minty smell filled the air. Inside the jar, he found a brownish, almost black looking goo of sorts.

"This is Arnica." She said matter of factly as if it was common knowledge to the whole world.

To Harm, the name seemed synonymous with some sort of poison. "Arniewhat?"

"Ar-ni-ca." She punctuated, taking some of the goo with her fingers and then spreading it over one of the bruises on his skin.

Still, something about the word reminded him of Arsenic. "So, let me get this straight, I've only been back for a few hours and already you're poisoning me? Jeez, I sure do feel the love Mac." He teased, getting a good chuckle out of her.

"No, silly. . .This is made out of a plant that has been used for centuries to help with bruises and muscle pains, among other things." Mac bit her lower lip as she moved to a particularly ugly looking bruise. She rubbed his skin tenderly, hoping not to cause any more undo pain.

"Mmmm, I see." He said, watching her delicate fingers rub the smelly substance onto each of the markings she found on his body. Her world was turned up side down and still she was there, taking care of him. The woman would never cease to amaze him. "I did deserve some of these. . .I tended to be out of line from time to time."

Mac's fingers stilled, her jaw tightened, eyes closed as she took a breath. "I'm sorry for putting you there. . .There was nothing else we could do."

It was real now, the turn that he knew would happen at one point. The truth as to why he was at a place he didn't belong. "You put me there? Why? Was I really. . ."

Sighing, she screwed the lid back on the Arnica jar and placed it on the nightstand. "If we're going to talk about this. . .I need you to know everything. .. just. . .just be patient with me. . .It hasn't been a good couple of months." No, the last couple of months sucked incredibly, they'd been some of the most challenging, demanding and heart wrenching times. It was a miracle she hadn't gone insane.

"Tell me how I wound up there. . .Haslinger said I was being violent? I can't remember any of that." God, did he do something to her? To someone else?

"You don't remember?" She pulled the sheets up to her chest, then leaned against the headboard next to him. Maybe this was a plus side? Maybe he wouldn't ever have to know that he. . .that. . .that he forced himself on her? Mac knew him too well, the guilt would unravel him and she wasn't going to contribute to that when it was obvious he'd been through enough.

"The last thing I remember, before waking up in the hospital, was the crash. . ."

Mac sighed again, this was going to be difficult. . .tricky. "Well, as much as this sounds like a bad melodrama. . .You were diagnosed with having Retrograde Emotional Amnesia. . .The doctors weren't sure how to diagnose it, so they combined two types of amnesia. Retrograde because you couldn't remember the past and Emotional because, according to them, there was no physical trauma to your head. . .It was like, you decided to block things out as some sort of. . .subconscious coping system." At least, that was how it was explained to her, in layman's term, but it still didn't make any sense, especially when he became. . .almost. . .violent.

"Amnesia?" He frowned, recalling a little too well two bouts that he'd suffered of the disease. The first was during his ramp strike. For a few weeks his brain had literally refused to acknowledge some of the memories before the incident. The second time. . .he remembered waking up at Bethesda, with a woman he didn't know sitting next to him, claiming they'd been together for a year. Neither was very pleasant. "I guess, being out in the middle of no where it was difficult for the guys on the Henry to treat me."

"Harm. . ." God, had he literally forgotten his time on the island and the Gerard's. "You don't remember anything else? Anything after the crash?"

"No. . .I don't." As far as he was concerned, there was nothing between them. Hell, he was probably on the Henry asleep most of time, right? "Did something happen?"

"Guess you could say that." Mac nodded. Damnit, there were so many things, where the hell would she begin?

"Mac?"

"Sorry. . .I ah. . .a lot of things happened. . .After you landed in the water. . .and blacked out. . .the current carried your body to an island in the middle of the South Atlantic ocean."

"An island? How. . ."

"No one really knew it was there. . .To make a long story short. . .Those planes you were up against _were_ American. . .A group of ex, just about everything, Marines, Navy, Coast Card, Army with a beef against the US got together to teach us a lesson. . .They were buying jets from other countries, even had a bid to buy those F-14 left over to Iran from the deal during the 70s. . .Anyway, they would capture pilots who could fly supersonic jets. . .That's why so many were shot down. . .the ones that lived, they would pluck out of the ocean and fly them to this compound on the island. . .No one knew about it because of the lack of traffic in that part of the ocean. . .It was as remote as it came."

Harm let out a low whistle. "Jesus. . .Did. . .did they capture me?"

Mac shook her head. Though the other pilots were unharmed, she didn't want to quite think of him in captivity. "No. . . You wound up at another edge of the island. . .This couple that used to work for the group lived there." She explained their situation and how Neroli had pretty much left them there to die. He learned of the couple that had basically saved him and managed to keep him as well as possible until the rescue arrived. "I ah. . .I somehow wound up on that rescue mission."

His eyes went wide with shock. "Are you crazy?"

That wasn't quite the response she was looking for. "I wasn't going to leave you out there to die!" She defended, shaking her head in defiance. "I had just. . .just. . .God, I have no idea how the hell it works or why it works or why it took so damned long. . .but, I found you. . ." Frustrated she moved her hand over her face and head. ". . .with that thing I do? You know?"

"Mac, it's okay. . ."

"It's not okay!" She yelled, the frustration of it all finally weighing down a little too much. She slid down the bed a bit, turning her back towards him. Her shoulders slumped down as she agonized over something that just didn't let her sleep that well at night. "It took forever. . .I had tried and tried and tried. . .and I couldn't. . ._find_. . .you. . .Damnit, if I didn't find you when I did. . ."

Slowly, he came up behind Mac, wrapping his hands around her shoulders. "Mac. . .I'm here. . .I'm here.?"

"And if we would have gotten there sooner, it's possible you would have remembered. . .When you were on that island, Ella and Connor tried to make you remember. . .Maybe this wouldn't have happened to you if you did."

Harm nodded, he understood her guilt, though it was completely unfeasible. "Mac, just the shock of the jolt could have made me go through that. . ."

"It was just. . .we were so far away and. . .we had to go from one place to another too. . .Fly from the ship to South America and then to Bethesda. . .I got shot getting you out so I was there too. .. _and_ they wouldn't let me see you. . ."

Surprised, he turned her around slightly, then tipped his head to the side so he could look her in the eye. "Woah, woah, woah, back up. . .shot?. . .You were shot?"

Pointing at a barely there spot on her shoulder, she nodded. Creams that a dermatologist at Balboa suggested, had worked wonders in removing the ugly patch of skin. It was still noticeable, but didn't look _that_ much like a gunshot wound. "Yeah. . .And I would do it again." She glanced up at him and smiled slightly, then her face took that saddened look again. "You were in Balboa while you went through the rehab for the shrapnel wound, which really wasn't as bad as it looked. . .mostly infected, but you did have a little trouble walking. . .While you were there we all would come to see you, the Roberts, your folks, Gunny, Mattie." She wasn't too sure she'd ever get that blank stare out of her head, nor the look of anger in his eyes when someone new tried to 'help' him remember. "You couldn't remember anything. .. Not me, not them. . .nothing. . .I brought you home and we were okay. . .But, you had a tendency not to be yourself."

There was something to the way she said it that scared him. "Not myself? What? What do you mean?"

"You tended to get angry really easily. . .So your mom decided to put in a call to a brain specialist. . .There had been documentation that he was the best around for conditions like yours. . .We sent you there with high hopes. . .After protesting, even you wanted to go. . .As the time went by, we kept hearing that you were getting worse. . .Violent. . .I didn't want to believe it so I went to Wilsonville and when I first saw you, you. . .you were heavily sedated. . .So I spoke to Doctor Haslinger. And I spoke to the orderly and they both confirmed that you were. . .unstable." She didn't want to believe it then, something told her it was all wrong, but she was too mentally screwed up to realize just how wrong it all was. "When I went back again. . .You looked at me funny, like. . .like you remembered me for a moment and then, you started going berserk. . .I guess, that's when I started to almost believe that I'd lost you."

Jesus Christ, he wasn't dreaming that? She was actually there. "I saw you. . .I remember that. . .I couldn't really talk. . .I was. . .out of it." He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply. Why were things always so complicated? "They wouldn't let me out. . ."

"What?" Now this she didn't know, as far as Mac was concerned, if he was here then. . . . "You escaped?"

Harm nodded. "They wouldn't let me call you. . .Haslinger kept saying that I was. . .that I had some problem functioning. . . But, the only times I ever did was when he pumped me full of whatever the hell was in that needle. . . I had this feeling. . .deep inside that you needed help. . .That you needed me. And I couldn't believe him anymore. . .So, I compromised one of the therapists. . .After they put us down for the night, she snuck back in. . .Unlocked the door to my room, handed me clothes, keys to the facility and even had a beat up old Chevy parked outside of the place." Closing his eyes, he remembered the look on her face, she believed him. Why, he wasn't sure nor was he going to question it.

Kimberly had handed him clothing equivalent to what the guards would wear. He donned them on and proceeded out of the place with his head held high. Once he got beyond the walls, he slid into the Chevy and said his farewells to his personal hell. On the seat next to him, was a duffle bag with clothing and just enough money for gas as he drove through Oregon and into California. A note was attached to the t-shirt in the bag. It had three items – notes of release from the institution, signed by Haslinger along with a clean bill of health. The third item was a note from Kimberly stating that, before she left Selene, she had Haslinger sign off on another patient and then changed the information on the form to his own. Though she couldn't get a hand of all of his medical records, the last MRI had shown that he was fine. "I'll have to find her and thank her." Mac's silence during the story of his escape worried him slightly. She'd been asking questions before and giving answers, now. . .something was definitely wrong. "Mac?" God, what now?

"Haslinger was a set up." Damnit, she saw it _now_. How convenient was it that Harm's treatment was so severe that he had to go away? Better still, why had Vukovic's attitude changed almost from night to day when he was back at JLSS. He was more pleasant to others, even to her, though he knew she was going after him with all that she had, consequences be damned. "The timing. . .it was perfect. . .We were. . .I. . .Damnit, I was just too emotionally raw to. . .to think clearly. . .So much was happening."

Harm's raised brow was an indication to the whirl of confusion she'd thrown at him. "What do you mean 'Haslinger was a set up.'?"

"I'm not sure how to tell you all of this. . .God, it feels like a lifetime of things have happened since the accident."

He could understand that, though he hadn't remembered much it felt like it had been years since he last her. "Go one step at a time. . ."

One step at a time? Hell, two steps would be better. "Your accident. . .wasn't an accident. . .it was planned."

Alright, so that really got his attention. Harm's eyes opened as wide as saucers. "What the hell do you mean planned? Someone tried to kill me?"

"Vukovic."

Now, that didn't really make sense at all. A plane was a highly sensitive piece of equipment, if he even tried something, it would show before they got up in the air. "Mac. . .I know he has a grudge against me, but. . .he's not a plane engineer. . .Short of slashing a tire, I don't know what he could have. . ."

"No, but, Airman Vincent Arjan knew your plane inside and out. . ." She saw an objection forming on his lips and before he had a chance to get it out, she raised her hand to stop him. "The details as to how the plan came about are sketchy and they will always be unless Vukovic admits it all, which he won't. . .After you went missing, Arjan was being investigated, as usually happens when there is a mishap with a plane onboard a carrier. . .They always go to the plane captains to check. . .make sure everything was done right."

"Yeah, that's a pretty routine procedure." He agreed, recalling a time too many that he'd had those types of conversations with plane captains that were too eager to help, but too tired to do so. On the other hand, there had also been cases of captains being a little too pissed off at the pilot or RIO. He, however, had a very good relationship with Arjan, as he always did with all of his former captains. They were the backbone of the air wing, the guys that busted their asses for hours a day while the plane crews slept in nice warm bunks.

"After your plane went down, according to friends of his, Arjan was acting weird. . .A few days later, he jumped off of the carrier. . .and died as a result to his injuries."

"Suicide?"

Mac shook her head. "Yes and no." As far as she was concerned, it was murder – Vic had smothered the boy so much, he felt the only way to survive it all was to kill himself. "People started going to Captain Loftness after they found out about Arjan's alleged suicide. .. Turns out, a few had seen Arjan and Vukovic arguing at around the same moment _your _plane was getting ready to launch. . .When the SAR team brought Arjan back on board Vukovic was seen in sickbay. In fact, one of the Ensigns threw him out. . .The nurse on staff stated that Arjan was frantically pointing towards the door where she saw Vic. . .On top of that there is a letter he left his girlfriend that begs her to forgive him and, I quote 'tell them he made me do it.'"

"Mac." There went that voice of him, the one of reason, the one that tried to keep the peace. Yes, he hated Vukovic. Harm had his own investigation to conduct on what his involvement with Mac and the SECNAV were, however, Mac had a tendency to get too involved. "I know you want to bring Vic down, but an argument between him and Arjan doesn't mean. . ."

"He's the SECNAV's son."

Harm's jaw dropped, his brow furled slightly. He didn't just hear what he thought he heard. She didn't just tell him. . ."Back up. . .I think I heard wrong."

She snorted, "No. You didn't."

Sliding to the edge of the bed he brought his hands up and scrubbed his face. "How did you find this out?"

"Hewitt told me. . ."

"Why would she do that?"

"I guess it just popped out. . .Before I left with the rescue team, she called in, ordered me not to go. . .I pretended the phone wasn't working." She grinned mischievously and shrugged at the look on his face. "You gave up your career for me once, Harm. . .I would do the same for you." She felt his hand slip into her own and tighten, a gesture that made her heart flutter. "When we got back home, she requested to see me. . ." A knot inside of her heart squeezed, tightening her chest and threatening to strangle her. It was Harm's hand, warm, fingers interlaced with her own that made this a little easier. Mac stroked his hand with her free one, then sighed deeply. "She told me to throw Vic's case. . .as an incentive. . .she offered me JAG."

Offered her JAG? Though Harm believed Mac had the stuff to be a successful Judge Advocate General, it wasn't something that either of them had ever concerned themselves with. Also, there would be a lot of red tape to go through in order for her just to be a candidate. "Does she realize that. . .well, that you won't be making General soon, right?. . .I mean, even with an accelerated promotion. . ."

Mac shrugged. "Not sure what she's thinking. . .though, she claims to have enough grease to get the wheels moving. . .I'm part of something big, apparently. . ." Two somethings big actually, but she wasn't about to blurt out that Hewitt suggested Mac and Vic be together. The idea still made her sick.

It was not too much of a shock to hear of Hewitt's plans. He, Loftness and even Keeter had discussed Mac's importance to someone like Hewitt. So much that Vic was probably spying on her. That's when the thought occurred to him – the only real thing Hewitt could want was the White House. "Does she want to run for President or something?"

"Yeah. . .She figures that if she puts me in as the JAG, she'll get votes. . .and she's probably right. . .Thing is, the Vukovic investigation is in the way. . ."

"Ah." He got it now, at least, he thought he did. "So, she offers you JAG _now_ rather than later so that you can get off of Vic's case."

"She's afraid that things will come up in the case. .. Obviously no one knows about him being her son, if they did, a hell of a lot of things could come up that will destroy her candidacy."

It was now starting to make sense, save for a few things. "Why do you think he would have had Arjan tamper with the plane?" The thought made him swallow hard. What type of devious thing did Vukovic do to his plane captain to make him turn?

"You know that saying: 'Mothers will do anything for their sons?'" At Harm's nod Mac took a breath, the idea still unable to fully wrap around her head. "Her son wants me. . .and _you_ are in the way. . .Mommy pretty much has given him the green light to do whatever he chooses and though she claims not to have sent him after you. . .Vic took it as such." She felt Harm tense, his breath stop completely. "She didn't outright say that he did it. . .but she covered for it. . .she even told me he was punished. . ."

Sighing, Harm leaned back into bed, his thoughts running at a million miles an hour. There had been many underhanded political schemes, but this may have topped it all. "So when I didn't die out there, they needed to put me away?"

"And I had part in it." Mac closed her eyes tightly, then wrapped the sheets around her as she stood. "She told me. . .that eventually it would be difficult to take care of you. That I would end up resenting you, hating you because you weren't. . .you."

His eyes locked onto hers. When she looked away, Harm immediately stood and came up behind her. "Mac. . .You didn't do that to me on purpose. . .I won't believe that. . .Not even subconsciously so don't beat yourself up about it."

"I believed Haslinger. . .without looking into it. I mean, Balboa recommended him and we just took that at face value." She took in a shaky breath, then let it out again. "I wanted so much for you to be okay. . .to come back to me that. . ."

"Mac." His arms came around her waist, holding her to him tightly. "I'm here now and I promise. . .I promise you we'll figure it all out. . .we will." Harm loosened his grip and walked around, coming to stand just in front of Mac. His hands cupped her face, brushing away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "Mac. . .Believe me."

"I do." She said softly, but the look on her face betrayed her words. Did she believe him? Yes. Did she think they could do anything about Vic and Hewitt? No. The case was the only way and it looked like that would probably end up falling to pieces. "She said she'd hurt you if I didn't comply Harm. . .She wants me to throw Vic's case else she'll. . ." His lips on hers stopped any other words. Mac gave in, wrapping her arms around his midsection as she deepened the kiss.

Sighing, he rested his forehead against hers, his hands slid down her arms and into her hands, entwining their fingers. "You promised me once I wasn't ever going to lose you. . .I did once because I thought it was the right thing for me and you. . .I'm not losing you again. . .We'll find a way, we always do."

A loud ringing sound – the telephone – made them both startled. Not letting go of Harm's left hand, she pulled him towards the night table where the phone was in its cradle. "Colonel MacKenzie." Mac answered, momentarily pulling the walls back up. Her sad eyes lit up when she heard the voice on the line. "Hey kiddo, how are you doing?"

(Mattie, God bless her, had never stopped calling despite the hurt she felt when she and the _other_ Harm had a bad conversation. The two had kept in contact, the girl always wondering how Mac was holding up. _"I'm alright, I guess. . .I was talking to Trish and Frank a little while ago. . .Deciding to see how you were doing.)_

Mac grinned, despite her initial feelings of Harm taking on a teenager, she had to admit, she loved Mattie very much. So much of the girl reminded her of her own past, except Mattie was smarter, more mature than she'd been. "I'm doing awesome at the moment, actually." Still grinning, she mouthed the word 'Mattie' to Harm.

(_"Awesome, huh? Something happen that I should know about?"_ Maybe it was futile and definitely stupid, but she held out hope that one day her father would remember.)

"You tell me." Handing the phone to Harm, she still held his hand as he took a seat on the bed next to her.

"Hey kiddo." Harm said, his voice sounding light and happy. Which he was, despite everything going on. At least, for the moment, two of his favorite girls were alive and well. That was something.

(_"Harm! When did you remember? How long have you been back? I'm sorry I didn't go visit but you were being such a jerk that I. . ."_)

"Woah, woah, woah, power down." He chuckled, rolling his eyes. Though Mattie was now a young adult, she would always have the exuberance of a crazy teenager. "I've been back for. . .hours really. . .It's a long story, I guess. .. but I'm good. . .I promise, I'm okay."

(_"I'm going to the Commandant and coming home."_ Mentally, she was already packed and on a plane.)

Something told Harm that, while that would make both him and Mac happy, it wasn't the time. "Hey, Mats. . .I don't think. . .it's not a good idea." He swallowed hard, then sighed. "There's lots going on here. . .Stuff Mac and I need to deal with. . .Stuff that could put you in danger."

(Alright, so that was certainly _not_ something she was expecting to hear. _"This is serious isn't it? Like serious investigation or lawyer stuff?"_)

Thankfully, she was old enough to understand that not everything was meant to be discussed with her. Harm thanked her for that every day. "Yea, Mats. . .Just like that. . .I want to see you, Mac does too but, for now. . .it's not such a hot idea."

("_Great, now you got me worried here," _She sighed, _"Should I be worried?_")

"No, Mattie, no. . .It's nothing Mac and I can't handle. . . I promise, I'll stay in touch with you and when it's all over, _I'll_ speak to the Commendant and have you back over here. . .Sounds good?"

(_"Sounds great. . .You know, I miss you guys. . . a lot."_)

"Oh yea? And what about that guy you were dating? He's not keeping you company?" There was a definitely fatherly sarcasm laced in that statement. He wasn't stupid and knew very damned well how _close_ some Middies got, however, it wasn't a smart move.

(Mattie laughed. _"Nah, we decided to be just friends. . .the whole hiding around thing was getting tiring."_

"I'm glad to hear that. . ."

(_"I'll bet you are!. . .Listen, I gotta go. . .We're hitting the town tonight. . .I just wanted to see how everything was. . .Take care will you? Give my love to Mac."_)

"Will do, sweetheart. . .And you be careful. . .Bye." He placed the phone back on its cradle, then turned to Mac with a smile. "She sends her love."

"She's a good kid. . .Ah, adult." She turned the smile, then leaned her head against his shoulder. "You know we'll need to let everyone know that you're back. . .Some people really missed you."

Harm nodded. "This can get exhausting though."

"Not exactly." You could pretty much see the light bulb turning on above her head.

1500 Local  
Secretary of the Navy  
Caroline Hewitt's Mansion  
Coronado, California

Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vuckovic sat in the library, stretched across a thick, leather sofa as he paged through the latest caseload. He was up against Lieutenant Christine Masterson, an exotically beautiful girl who'd caught his eye upon returning to JLSS. She'd only been with the ranks for a short while and this would be one of the first cases she would prosecute since becoming a lawyer. It was one hell of a petty case – a seaman who'd stolen twenty dollars from his bunkmate – in fact, he toyed with throwing it, just to see her win. Hell, maybe she could even lick his wounds?

"Nah." He had better things to set his sights on such as the lovely Colonel MacKenzie. Vic wasn't stupid, he knew it was against the regs – fraternization – but, considering she'd done the same with Colonel Farrow and not gotten caught. . .Besides, his mother's idea of him resigning and starting civilian practice wasn't bad at all. This way, he would get what he wanted – freedom from the Hell that was the Navy and one Sarah MacKenzie. "Ah, Sarah."

Damnit, she was hot with legs that went on for days, and that coy, sexy smile. With that idiot Rabb out of the way things would run much smoother now. He just needed to _pretend _to be a nice guy. Hell, he was a nice guy! Very nice, in fact. "Especially to the ladies." The definitive sound of ladies' heels clicking on the marble floors had him sitting up.

"Gregory?" Hewitt called, she'd been looking for him since she'd arrived at the mansion. The flight from DC had been hell and all she wanted now was a long bath and some shut eye. That wasn't going to happen just yet.

"Yea, mom, in here." He yelled, then went back to reading the case file. Slam dunk for the prosecution, alright. Oh well. Couldn't win them all.

Pulling the door open, Caroline stepped in. "There you are. . .We have to talk."

Vic's brow rose. "No, 'hello, how are you? How's your day?' Must have been a shitty flight." He conceded, standing up to receive a kiss on the cheek and then crashing back onto the sofa.

Immediately, Hewitt went for a large globe at the corner of the room. Pulling back slightly, a latch was released and underneath was a small bar. "God damnit! Ran out of bourbon." Shrugging, she took a glass and filled it half way with scotch, then took a long gulp.

"Hmmm, guess it was more than just the flight? It's my case isn't it?"

She shook her head as she closed the bar back up. "Nope, that's the only _good_ news I have." Sighing, she flopped down on an over sized chair, kicked off her heels and plopped her feet up on the matching ottoman. "Rabb's out." Vic didn't have to say anything, the look on his face was enough. "Haslinger called on the flight over. . .Somehow, he got out. . .Probably someone on the staff helped."

"Who?"

"It doesn't fucking matter who, Gregory. . .What matters is that he is at MacKenzie's and has been since last night." She sighed heavily. Why, oh why couldn't anything that involved her son run smoothly? "I had a talk with her when I was last here. . .She knows her options, so now we wait and see what she's going to do about them."

Vic grabbed a pen and chucked it across the room angrily. "Mother, that son of a bitch will change her mind about everything. . .Mac becomes a moron around him. . ."

"And you become a moron around her, so I don't want to hear it." She warned, downed the rest of the drink and then rose the glass up. "Get me another. . .make it a double."

Groaning, he lifted himself from the sofa and took the glass. "So what about the case?" He asked, pulling the top of the globe back. "You said that was the _only_ good news?"

Hewitt's grin was slightly infectious. "Because of that little Neroli incident, all of the JAG cases are getting pushed back. . .backlogged, whatever you call it. . .The Neroli cases are taking precedent for now. The Military wants to show that it will not stand for domestic acts of terrorism and treason. The group is being made an example of. . .Which means your case won't come up for at least a month, maybe more. . .That might give us enough time to get rid of Rabb and woo MacKenzie."

"And how do you plan on getting rid of Rabb? I think it might look a bit suspicious if something else happened to him." Vic pointed out, handing her the glass of whiskey.

"Hmm." She gulped down half. "That's pretty simple. . .If I know a man in love, he'll do anything to for his beloved. . .And if Rabb is as much a man of action as I've heard. . . He'll come to me eventually."

1820 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Victor Galindez spotted the Roberts' mini van as well as Jen's Nissan and Mayfield's SUV. He furled his brow in confusion as he took the steps up to the house. Mac had called him a little over an hour ago, asking him to stop on by, that she had a solution to the firm. Losing Harm it had taken a blow, as half of the finance had come out of his end. Though Gunny could keep the place running for a few months, if things didn't get better and he didn't take on another partner, chances were that he'd have to downgrade the personnel – something that would have them gobbled up by bigger firms and definitely close up shop. He didn't want that to happen, nor did he want to do that to Harm. Damnit, they'd worked too hard to just drop out of sight.

Before knocking, Gunny had a hunch to try the door which was uncharacteristically left open. He stepped inside the house, finding the owners to the vehicles present. The owner of the home, on the other hand, was not. "Hey gang." He exchanged pleasantries with his friends, then curiously took a gander around the home. "Ah, where's Mac?"

Harriet, who was handing one of the twins a sipee cup, shrugged. "I don't know. . . She said she needed to get us all here and then disappeared." Sighing, she glanced up the stairs and frowned. "I hope it's nothing bad about Harm. . .News hasn't been good as of late."

Gunny nodded. "I know. . .believe me I. . ." His eyes had taken another glimpse around the house, stopping at the stairs and a certain friend who was standing there with a smile. "Hey partner!"

Harm walked down the last few steps to be assaulted by all of his friends. He felt like a rock star. "Hey, guys." Hugs and kisses were exchanged as well as a tackle from all of his godchildren, except for AJ who was sitting to the side, watching the commotion. He hadn't totally understood whatever his godfather had told him months ago, all he knew was that he'd been mean to him, something Harm never had been.

Jen too held back slightly. As much as she'd always believed that Harm was attractive, a relationship between the two of them was just a little bit gross. He was the big brother she never had. Besides, she had a sexy Marine now. "Hi, Captain." She gave him a guarded hug, then took a step backwards earning her an odd expression from Harm.

"Jen, it's me . .You know that." Her tight smile was an indication of a story there and not a good one. "Did something happen?" He pointed towards the dinning room, placing a hand at the small of her back to lead he there. "Jen? You can talk to me, you know that."

To her credit, she didn't just blurt it out, unfortunately though, at the moment, she couldn't quite look him in the eye. "It's just that. . .You said something. . .though, I guess it wasn't you but. . .You made a pass at me and it was so. . .unlike you."

Sighing, Harm placed his hands on the back of one of the dinning room chairs. "Yeah, Mac said I was different. . .I honestly don't remember. . .And if I did something wrong, I apologize profusely, Jen."

When she looked up at him, Harm was waiting with a smile and open arms. Gratefully, she hugged him back. "I'm glad you're back." She whispered. "Mac's been a mess without you."

"I know. . .I'm going to fix that, I hope." With a wry grin, he turned back to the group, finding little AJ standing to the side while his brothers and sister were fooling around with the adults. "Hey Buddy." He placed a hand on AJ's shoulder and noted that, like Jen, he seemed distant. "What's up?"

"You were being a real jerk last time I saw you, Uncle Harm." He stated matter of factly, the only way a ten year old could.

Harm didn't have a clue what the boy was talking about, but from what little Mac had said, it was almost as if he were a different person completely. "I'm sorry about that, Buddy. . .But if you let me, I can make it up to you."

AJ stood there, seemingly contemplating his offer. "Cool." He high-fived his godfather and went on with life, as if nothing happened.

Chuckling, Harm watched him go. "Ah, to be a kid again." Feeling two hands wrap around his midsection, he immediately thought it was Mac. Instinctively, he wrapped his own arms around hers and then, made a quick movement to bring her in front of him. The woman definitely wasn't Mac. "Mom!"

Trish beamed at her son, tears of happiness running down her cheeks. "I thought we lost you for good, Harmon. . .I'm so sorry for what we did."

Next to them, Mac stood, her hand in the crook of Frank's arm. "I would have called you sooner, but. . ."

"You two were getting reacquainted?" Frank suggested and though neither Mac nor Harm said much, their matching blushes were an indication to the affirmative. "Come here, son." He hugged his stepson tightly, then held him for a moment later whispering in his ear, "Sarah is a keeper. . .Don't ever let her go."

"That's my intention." He whispered back, his eyes moving towards where Mac stood with a sweet smile.

March 27, 2010  
0800 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Mac was straddling his waist, half naked and placing kisses all over his face. Words that were foreign to their love making came out of his mouth "Oh yea, baby. . .I knew you liked it rough. . . Oh, Sarah, baby."

She stopped, glancing down at him as if he were a stranger, then again, that is exactly what he felt like – a stranger. When she objected, he took her roughly, slamming her down into the mattress and visibly winding her. And that didn't bother him, he couldn't care about a single thing but feeling her body wrapped around his. What the hell was going on?

Glancing down, he found her hands on his chest, trying to shove him away but the bruising weight of his body kept her pinned beneath him. "No, I can't do this. . . Stop please!" But he didn't stop and instead continued this insistent kisses at any place his mouth could reach. "Harm, STOP!"Her pleas were falling on deaf ears. Damnit, why wasn't he stopping? Why couldn't he stop? It was like something supernatural was feeding a monster deep inside of him. When his hand nearly slipped between her thighs, Mac had a knee jerk reaction – literally.

That's when he woke from his nightmare. Harm bolted upright, his body covered in sweat. "Oh God." Thing is, he knew it wasn't a nightmare. It was too real, too intense, had he actually forced himself on her? Glancing to the side he found Mac, eyes wide with shock staring at him. "Oh God." He stumbled out of bed, racing to the bathroom where he retched.

Concerned, Mac followed, standing at the door as he tried to compose himself. "Harm?. . .Harm?" When she tried to touch him, he just pulled away cowering to the corner. "Harm? What is it?"

His body was shivering, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "What did I do to you?" She shook her head in confusion. "Mac! What. . .Oh God." His stomach tightened. Nausea had his head spinning. Jesus Christ, did he? "Did I force myself on you?"

"No! What the hell are you talking abou. . .Oh." Closing her eyes, she leaned against the frame, then brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. If there was anything she wanted to keep from him, this was it. "You didn't. . .I mean. . .We didn't. . .I slept in Mattie's bed that night." She held out a hand to him, waiting for him to take it. "Harm, clean yourself up and come back to bed. . .I guess there are a few things you should know."

He reached for her, allowing Mac to help him stand. Then he turned on the water faucet to clean his face and use some mouth wash. Mac was waiting for him, sitting on the side of the bed. He sat on the other side as Mac went through the missing information. "You were a creep, really. . .but it wasn't you. . .I knew that it wasn't you. . .The things you said to me that night, it wasn't the things you normally say when we. . .your kisses were different. The way you touched me was different. So, I couldn't. . .it felt like I was cheating on _you._"

"I'm sorry, Mac."

"Harm, there isn't anything for you to be sorry about."

Yes there is! For starters, he didn't _have_ to be on that mission. "I shouldn't have taken that mission. I could have stayed here and trained pilots. . .I should have. . ."

Mac sighed, the guilt game, both his and hers, was starting to get old. "If you hadn't gone you wouldn't have been the man that I fell in love with. . .The man who is bound to honor and duty."

Harm nodded, he understood that much. "It's the same reason I couldn't be mad at you for going to Paraguay, Mac. . .It's who we are."

"That's right. . .It is. . .Look, you _didn't_ hurt me, not physically. . .I mean, it hurt and I was hurting, but. . ._That_ wasn't _you._ . .This is you." She reached for him, her hand wrapping around his larger one, pulling him close to her. Harm obliged, curling his body next to hers. "Nothing was right with _him_. . .God, even your kisses were different."

That was definitely one of the oddest things he'd ever heard in his life. "How? . . .I don't get that."

Mac turned to him, her eyes locking onto his own. Her gaze, enamored and passionate took his breath away. "You do this thing. . .I don't even think you know that you do it, either."

"This thing?" Alright, so he had no clue what the _thing_ was. "What thing?"

She sighed softly, a gentle smile crossing her lips. "Before kissing me, you press your lips to mine, letting them linger slightly. . .Then you kiss me. . .You don't do it every time, but when you do. . ." She swallowed and let out a breath. "It gets me. . .right here." Taking his hand, Mac slid it up to her heart, holding it there.

Damnit, now, more than ever, he knew he had to fix things. For him. For her. For them and any shot they had at staying happy together. "I love you so much."

"That's why I know you'd never purposely hurt me." She pointed out, leaning in to kiss him.


	24. Dealing With The Devil

**Hey Gang! Sorry for the delay with this one but both me and V (our wonderful beta-reader) have been BUUUSSY. Good news though, I got my license! Yay! Anyway, hope all is well and everyone is safe this Memorial Day Weekend. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**PART 24 – Dealing With The Devil**

March 27, 2010  
1030 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

"Mmmm." Lazily, Mac stretched out in the bed, then rolled over feeling. . .nothing. The sheets themselves weren't even warm. Harm had to have been up for a quite a while. She got out of bed and headed into the bathroom, grabbing a pink satin robe which she cinched before heading out of the room. Smells of coffee and food assaulted her senses. She quickly came down the steps and headed to the kitchen, propping herself up on one of the stools under the kitchen bar. "Mmm, you're a little over dressed for breakfast, dontcha think?"

Harm was wearing grey slacks and a white dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up. His sports jacket hung at the back of one of the dinning room chairs. When he turned around she noted his tie, which was undone, the top buttons of his shirt were as well. He eyed her with interest. "Or, maybe _you_ are a little underdressed?"

Feigning shyness, she took one side of the robe and closed it a little more covering the little swell of her breast that was exposed. "Thought you _liked_ me underdressed?"

Chuckling with earnest, he turned to the coffee pot, took her mug and his and filled them both with coffee. "Actually, I just like you completely _naked_." Turning around, he grinned evilly and slid a mug in front of her. "But, underdressed will do for now." Leaning across the bar he kissed her softly, then returned back to the eggs and bacon on the skillet.

"If I can have a little leeway, your honor, I'll clarify." She stated to no one in particular and then, "Where are you going, Captain?" Instead of answering, he commented on the fabulous weather and the tide. When the hell did he ever care about the tide? "Witness is being unresponsive. .. Permission to. . ."

"Maaaac." He whined out, dishing up two plates which he took with him to the dinning room table. "Do you want juice as well?"

"Haaaaaaarm. . .If you want to throw me off of the scent, try better bait." She pointed out, sliding into her designated chair. "Yes, juice will be fine, thanks." Upon his return to the table, she sweetly leaned in, running a finger down his cheek. "So, where are you going?" Hey, she was willing to try all tactics possible.

Harm shook his head and grinned, the woman was driving him crazy, but what a ride. "Need a hair cut and a shave. . .a close shave." He said, scrubbing his hand over the beard that he'd trimmed slightly, but still needed a professional to get rid of. "It itches."

"Hmmm." She nodded, places that he had kissed did itch, somewhat, still she thought he looked attractive. Mac still wanted her clean cut, flyboy back, but this was a nice change, "You look cute though."

"Cute? Mac, I look like a drug addict. . ." He said, taking a bite out of his eggs.

"A sexy drug addict." Mac pointed out with a grin. "Never thought you were the type to dress up for a meeting with the barber though, Mr. Rabb. . .Must be one hell of a place if you need to get all spiffied up."

Sighing, he reached under the table and to a vacant chair, raising up the morning paper. "I'm going to Coronado, have a little chat with Hewitt." He pointed at the top story in the local news, an article that stated Hewitt was back in town for a fund raiser of sorts.

"Harm, that isn't a good idea."

"I'm going, Mac." He knew she would protest and already resigned to the fact that no matter what she said, he was going to settle this.

Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. This weekend had been a honeymoon of sorts, a way to get back in touch with him. Subconsciously, she knew she'd been trying to avoid the problems that lay ahead. Ignoring things never made them go away. "At least let me go with you."

Harm shook his head. "No, Mac. . .You talked to Hewitt alone. . .This is my turn."

Despite herself, Mac knew too well that when Harmon Rabb Junior had his head in something, he wasn't going to get out of it easily. With a defeated sigh, she gave in. "Fine. . .but be careful and get back as quickly as you can. . .I didn't like the terms she set out for me."

"What's she going to do, Mac? Kill me on the way in?"

She doubted that aspect of it all, Hewitt needed to keep her hands clean. But God only knew what stunts both Vic and Hewitt would pull to get what they wanted. "Just, be careful."

1220 Local  
Secretary of the Navy  
Caroline Hewitt's Mansion  
Coronado, California

A burly man, dressed in a sharp business suit, with a not so concealed bulge under his right arm, descended the steps to the foyer. "Captain Rabb, Madam Secretary has been expecting you."

Harm didn't comment on the oddity of that statement. How the hell would she know he was coming, unless Mac's theory about Haslinger was true. "Well, we mustn't leave Madam waiting, must we?"

"Not so fast." The man shook his head and brought his arms out to the side, signaling that Harm should do the same. "Stand up against the wall and don't you dare move." He brought out a handheld metal detector and waved it over Harm's body. When he waved the machine over the left side of Harm's chest, it beeped rather loudly. "What do we have in here?" Patting Harm down, he reached a hand inside the breast pocket and pulled out a cellphone, which he slipped into the pocket of his trousers. "Can't have that, can we."

Snorting, Harm shook his head in disbelief. "No, God forbid I make a phone call." The guard stepped into the living room, waving him along. He fell in step with the guard, his eyes scanning the home's oddities on display. It had a very masculine feel to it, strange with Hewitt's gung ho attitude about women in power. Then again, what was he looking for? Pink wallpaper?

"Right through here, follow the hallway to the door. . .her office is just inside."

Arriving to the door, he wrapped his knuckles against it twice, then waited. His patience, as he waited yet a little longer, wasn't quite rewarded. When the door opened, one Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic stepped out. Harm shouldn't have been surprised to see him, but he barely stifled a gasp. Looking the man up and down, he found him in comfortable civilian attire, definitely not the type to wear when you were visiting someone like Hewitt. Then again, he _was_ her son. "Captain, sir. . .then again, we're out of uniform. . .It's Harm isn't it?"

Biting down on his inner cheek was the only thing that prevented a witty come back. "No, Commander, I'd prefer it if you called me by my rank, uniform or not." Harm smiled that charming smile of his and excused himself as he stepped around Vic. Still smiling at Vic, he closed the door on his face, then turned to address Hewitt. "Ma'am. . .may I take seat?"

Hewitt had watched the interaction between both men with great interest. It was keenly obvious, at least to her, that Vic _was_ afraid of Harm, though he'd told her otherwise when she'd asked. It was in his body language, the way his shoulders stiffened. Now, being in the same room with the six foot four - tall, dark and screw handsome, the man was downright sexy – she understood. "Yes, Captain, please have a seat." It surprised her how the air in her office changed dramatically. It was almost as if the atmosphere knew he'd entered her domain. She'd read all about Harm, his success in the courtroom and as a pilot. There probably was very little that he ever did wrong.

The way he sank into that chair, slow and so sure of himself, just capitalized what Hewitt already knew. This was a man on a mission. "I was expecting you, Captain. . .I just didn't think you'd come in so calmly or nicely dressed."

Harm chuckled without emotion, then sat back in the chair comfortably, crossing his leg over his knee. "I would have come in uniform, but it's at the cleaners. . .And can you please clarify _how_ you knew I was coming? Let me guess, Dr. Haslinger contacted you?"

Hewitt shook her index finger at him and grinned. Jesus, they really didn't have a clue did they? "No no no, I haven't spoken to Haslinger. . .Let's just say I had a. . ._hunch_."

_Or someone spying on Mac _he thought, but let it slide, he was here to grind an axe of a different kind. "I'm going to cut to the chase . . . I know about the offer you made Colonel MacKenzie, I know that Vukovic is your son and I know that you tried to have me killed." To his surprise, Harm couldn't understand how the hell Hewitt wasn't shocked at his accusations. He was going to call her on it, but Hewitt was faster.

"Why do you assume it was _me_ that tried to have you killed? I did nothing of the sort." Sighing dramatically, she stood and walked across the room to a small bar, pouring herself a whiskey straight. "I needed you out of the way, yes. . .but I figured you'd wind up at sea and become one of the latest tragedies _without_ our assistance."

"Why is it that you want me out of the way, exactly? I'm of no threat to you. In fact, if you left Mac alone, I have no reason to bother with either of you."

Laughing, she turned fully to him. "You certainly are a cocky one, aren't you, Captain? No reason to bother with us. . ." She laughed some more, then walked back across the room and slid into her chair. "Gregory loves the Colonel. . .as far as I am concerned, you _are_ in the way. . .But, putting that aside. . .What would you have told her, what would your advice have been when she told you what I was offering?"

Brow raised in question, Harm slid to the edge of the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "That it was up to her. . .If she wants to be the JAG, I'd stand by her."

"Just like that?"

His smirk was a telling indication that it wouldn't be quite that simple. "I would tell her to be leery of you. . .Then again, that's a position that you put yourself in, ma'am. You can't say you've acted properly for a person in your office."

"Seldom do in politics, Captain. . .You should know that, you've dealt with enough of us."

Harm's gut feeling told him this was going to go in circles until he got a good read of what her intentions were. Why was Mac so important out of every woman in this world? "Why Mac? Why not anyone else?"

"Gregory chose her." She said simply, without preamble. It was the bona fide truth that began over five years ago in Falls Church. "When you met Gregory, I'm sure you heard that General Cresswell was quite pleased with his lawyering abilities."

_What lawyering abilities?_ Harm wanted to scream at her, but bit his tongue. "The General seemed to think that Vukovic walked on water, but needed a little tutelage. He chose Mac to be his mentor, I guess he figured that as a Marine she would do the best job."

"Hmmm." Hewitt nodded then took a sip of the whiskey. "I love my son, Captain, but you've worked with him so you do know how shitty of a lawyer he is." The surprised look on his face made her chuckle. Damn, this was fun. "I was a Senator at the time with my eyes on the SECNAV's chair. . .Gregory was sent in to JAG to spy for me. . .To find enough ammo to take Sheffield off of his gilded perch. . .Unfortunately, it didn't work. . .And yet, maybe it did because, here I am." She stood again, returning to the bar where she poured herself another drink. This whole MacKenzie business was driving her insane, alcohol seemed to be the one thing that kept her wits about her. It was also giving her loose lips. . .very loose lips. "Gregory saw potential in Colonel MacKenzie. It wasn't until he was stationed here in San Diego with her that I realized I had who I needed to win the Presidency. See I have advisers, Captain. Good advisers. They all tell me that if I go up against a very male institution like the Navy, or the Military in general, and vie to put a female in a top billet, it would hike up just a few more votes. The woman has power, more than she can imagine. . .Men respect her. . .women want to be her. . .it's that edge that I need to bring down this boys' club crap that you call the Navy. It has to end, it's not working anymore."

Aha, so there was a hidden agenda and, she was right, it would serve her the Presidency on a platter. The last two Presidents had made a mockery out of the military in general. Their inability to permanently silence terrorist threats had made them the laughing stock of the world and given them the title of 'Blood Hungry, War Mongers.' To top it all off, the instances of females having trouble fitting in were escalading. Either you played like one of the boys or you were tossed out on your ass. In London, he'd seen a good half a dozen cases like that, women with grievances looking for a fair deal and not getting it. Despite changes in regulations and all of the extra classes officers had to receive on gender norming, things really hadn't changed. It _was_ still a boys club and it would _always_ be. Not that Harm approved, hell, he knew better than most how tough women could be. His girlfriend was a prefect indicator. Damnit, but this was insanity. Yes, things needed to change, but how? And if it were going to change, it should be by those in the service who truly knew how things worked and didn't work. "I get it now. . .You challenging the Navy directly on its _alleged _unfair treatment of women will get you the candidacy?"

"Fathers, mothers, brothers, sons, daughters, feminists, activists, there's always a group needing a hero to protect those that they love. Hell, Captain, how many women out there served for years and _never_ got the commendation they deserved? Just take a walk around Arlington next time you're out there."

"You know, your idea would be a noble one if it wasn't because you were doing it just to gain something for yourself." He sighed deeply, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you would back the Colonel up seeing as it would be an occasion to mark history. . .The first female Judge Advocate General."

"My numbers would go up _just_ by the thought of it."

"And what if she isn't selected?"

Hewitt shrugged. "I know how it works, Captain. .. the probability of her making it is nil. . .she's not even the proper rank, nor will she be by the time the selection board meets this year."

"So Mac was right, the reason why you offered her the job was to bribe her into throwing Vic's case."

A sick, sadistic grin spread across Hewitt's lips. Ah, pity she knew all of this was coming, would have been fun to attack him without any extra ammo. "I see a fine match between the Colonel and my son, don't you?"

Harm laughed out loud, the thought of Mac with Vic was just too ridiculous to be plausible. "Don't tell me you honestly think she'll get together with him. . . I mean, you're joking aren't you?"

For a moment, it seemed like she'd actually sobered up. "I most certainly am not, Captain. . .She would be quite a match for him. . .Maybe straighten up his insecurities a little?"

"Insecurities? Is that what you call it when he raped the woman that left him at the alter?" Had she been standing closer to him, Hewitt would have certainly slapped him. As it was, he was half expecting her to chuck that glass at his head.

Her nostrils were flaring like an angry bull, that had been a low blow, even lower than the types that she threw. Then again, she had something up her sleeve, a hit that would cause a severe chink in Captain Rabb's armor. If there was one thing that scared everyone was the abuse of their privacy. Calmly, she went around her desk and walked to a wall that had a massive painting of what appeared to be an Irish countryside. "You asked me earlier how it was that I knew you were coming?" She didn't turn to him when she spoke, merely watched as the painting disappeared and a plasma tv took its place. "Watch. Listen. Soon you will learn why you don't fuck with me, Captain."

Amused with the turn of events, Harm stood up and walked closer to the screen, enabling to see things just a little better. Five split screens appeared, each with video footage of someone's home. Upon closer inspection he realized that wasn't just anyone's home – it was his – theirs – his and Mac's. "Jesus Christ." He said under his breath as a replay of their activities on Friday night came into full view in black and white. The top left screen was a shot of the living room and dinning room. The one to the top right was the back deck. The center screen had a shot of the kitchen while the lower left side was the office, and the last one pointed directly to their bed.

"Hmmm." She scanned all four screens carefully, then turned to Harm. "I can show you a few interesting things." She pressed a button on a remote and on the center screen a view of Mac holding a bottle of vodka came into view. "She's an alcoholic isn't she? At least, that's what Gregory told me."

Harm swallowed hard, his throat drying badly with every passing second. He felt so horrible, so hurt that he wanted to cry. _Oh God, Mac._ "This can't be real. . ." But, then again, he had found her with a vodka bottle that night. And the taste of the bitter liquor on her lips. He sucked in a breath of air.

Smirking, Hewitt pressed a button and the screens shifted, the one in the middle switching with the shot of their bedroom. "Oh, how about this?" Pressing a few more buttons, she rewound the footage and then pressed play. An image of him with Mac straddling his waist came into view. Sounds of pleasure filled the office. "We have a lot more, though this is my favorite. . .I've never been one to cry during sex."

It _had_ been the night which he came back. "You bitch." Out of their own volition, the tears which had filled his eyes slipped out, cascading down his cheeks. For the first time in a long time he felt truly vulnerable and wounded. Angrily, he wiped the tears away, then stood toe to toe with Hewitt, his six foot four frame towering over her five foot six one. "I'm not going to stand for this. . .I'm bringing you down." Turning, he made to run out of the place, to find the first person who would listen to him and Mac. But, her words stopped him cold.

"You do anything, Captain and I'll make _certain_ the Colonel is miserable every day of the rest of her pathetic little life." When he turned to face her, she pointed back at the chair. "Have a seat. . .that's an _order._"

His jaw was clenched so hard, he could feel the pain running up his teeth and into his head. Harm should have continued, ignored her threat and done the right thing, but he couldn't. Mac's life depended on him finding out the truth and he would. He had a whole PI team he could bank on. "Why are you doing this to her?. . .If you want her so much, this. .. all of this isn't going to win Mac over."

"No, but _you_ are." She pointed at him, then pressed stop on the video footage and lowered the painting back over the screen. "As long as you are around, I know Mac won't do a damned thing I say. . .She's got this loyalty to you that, really. . .it's nauseating."

"It's the same loyalty I have to her. . ." He swallowed hard once again. Her words about him being in the way struck a severe cord. He had to apologize to Mac for not fully believing that Vic could have gotten to Arjan. "So, what are you going to do to me? Lock me back up under Haslinger's sadistic care? Send me on some other suicide mission? I know you won't put a bullet on my brain, that's too traceable. . .Shit, why don't you just toss my sorry ass off of the starboard side of carrier."

Hewitt rolled her eyes, his dramatics were really silly and entirely unnecessary. "No Captain. . .Unlike my son, I don't see the reasons to end your puny little life. . .But, I will make a trade with you. . .Break up with her. Leave her and I will _promise_ that she'll get everything she deserves in life. . .Everything and more."

"You're absolutely out of your mind, Hewitt."

"Am I?" Shakes her head. "No, I am just a mother doing what's right for her son. . .You're a parent, Captain, you should know all about that."

"I know that Mattie would loathe me if I did something like this. . .No matter what she gained from it."

"Oh please!. . .You give her the world on a platter, do you think she cares what it took you to get it?"

"She would care." He raised his hands up. "Whatever psychotic idea you have planed isn't going to work. I'm not going anywhere and don't try to dangle Mac like a carrot in front of me. . .If you need her so much, you aren't going to touch a hair on her head. . .As for me, I don't give a damn if you kill me or not."

Ah, the noble approach! When she heard about Harm's Knight in Shining Armor complex, she would never have thought that it went this far. "I need her, but I don't need you, your daughter or your mutual friends. . .A lot of bad things can happen to people you love. . .people you _both_ love. . .Now, I certainly think that the Colonel will stop loving you, if she found out you were responsible for the murder of her godchildren."

Harm's eyes widened in shock. "You wouldn't. . .They have nothing to do with. . ."

"I would. . .You have no idea how much I love the taste of victory and nothing is taking it away, Captain. . .Nothing. . .So, are you going to take my deal or not?"

This had become a game of Russian roulette with the Devil and his minions. _Damned if you do, damned if you don't. _Harm brought his hands over his face, his palms resting against his forehead. Jesus Christ, what had he done? "If I. . .break up with her." The words sounded horrible coming from him, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "What assurances do you have that she'll do what _you_ want."

"Ah, now _that's_ the best question you've asked all day." She went back to the screens, rewinding a pressing play on the image of Mac in the kitchen with the bottle of vodka. "She loves you, that's blatantly obvious and, without you, it doesn't seem like she can function well, does it?" The one key thing that would have to happen was for Mac to give in willingly and if that didn't, she'd knock the Marine down to the ground and build her right back up. Turning to Harm she saw him looking away from the screen in disgust. _Good._ "LOOK at the screen, Captain!" She yelled, then smiled at him as he turned. "She'll be vulnerable, will need someone to talk to, to understand her. . .She certainly won't go to your mutual friends, they're married with kids or too young to understand. . .So, she'll be alone. . .and we'll be there to pick up the pieces."

"If she doesn't kill. . ." No! He couldn't think like that. No matter what happened, Mac wasn't the type to take her own life. But, what if. . .what if she was pushed to the edge like Arjan was? What then? The options were being weighed precariously in his mind – Mac's life or his godchildren's and his daughter's? How did it ever come to this? "I'll do it. . .but first you need to promise me one thing."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hewitt, against her better judgment, agreed. "Okay, Captain. . .one thing."

"Time." It was all he really needed and the one thing that never really seemed to be on their side. Maybe this time, it would change? "I need time. . .To think."

Hewitt nodded. "Alright, Captain. . .I can afford you. . .one week. . .After that, I'll need an answer." She watched Harm as he stood dejectedly, "Oh, and Captain, this better not be a trick."

"This isn't a trick. . .Your holding the life of my family in your hands. . .I just can't sit around and watch Mac run to another man's arms, I've done it before. . .So I'm going to use the time to find something to do in this Goddamned Navy you have such a problem with." He stalked to the door and threw it closed behind him. If she thought he was going along with her plans, she was insane. Maybe the key lay in the last thing he said? Maybe it was time to find something else to do to keep himself occupied. Or, at least, make it look like he was. Damn, talk about an Oscar performance.


	25. Bugs, One Creep and Mr Fancy Suit

Moving right along... I'm hoping to wrap the story up in the next 5 chapters and then have an epilogue which you shippers are going to LOVE. ENjoy! Jackie

**Part 25 – Bugs, One Creep and Mr. Fancy Suit**

March 27, 2010  
1650 Local  
Mac and Harm's Home  
San Diego, California

Harm rushed into the house and flew up the stairs, passing the office where Mac was sitting behind her desk, doing searches on the computer. He'd been gone a long time, longer than expected, even if chatting with Hewitt. Worst of all, he hadn't answered his phone. "Where the hell have you been!" She stood up when he walked into the room and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tightly. "Harm? Harm? What's wrong?"

"Everything is fine, Mac." Slowly, he unraveled himself from her, then turned his back to her and walked to the shelves where all of his investigative equipment sat charging. The camera which was placed in that room, in the angle that he'd seen it, couldn't pick up what he was doing, it was just out of the shot.

"I called you and you didn't answer your cell." She pointed out watching him with great interest. Something was up, she could feel it, this tension that was rolling off of him though he stood there proud and confident.

"Damned battery died. . .I think I need to buy a new one." He made a project of taking the cell phone out of his pocket and pretending to change its battery. In the process, he managed to palm a small bug detecting device which he slipped into his pocket leaving the cellphone on the shelf.

Mac shook her head, his behavior was odd. "Harm? What happened?"

Turning quickly, he stepped close to her, his hands came up to cup her face, his voice wavering slightly. "It'll be okay, Mac. . .Everything is fine." But even as he said his reassurances, she saw a steely determination in his eyes. Something was definitely wrong. "It'll be fine." He lowered his head to hers, kissing Mac a little harder than usual. He pushed her up against the closest wall, kissing her wildly, passionately. "Need. To. Talk." He punctuated the kisses, whispering into her ear so that the surveillance equipment wouldn't pick it up. "Bathroom." He suddenly said, knowing from prior experience that was usually the one place bugs wouldn't be.

"Let's hit the shower." Mac rasped against his throat, she'd already removed his sports jacket and was moving to the tie.

Still kissing, Harm guided her out of the office, into their bedroom and to the master bath. Once inside, he turned and closed the door. Sighing deeply, he took out what he'd named 'the bug zapper' and got to work. "Harm, what are you. . ." He covered her mouth with his hand and shook his head.

Pushing pass her he scanned the door, the frame and then worked his way over to the basin, medicine cabinet, toilet and the shower. Everything was clean. Glancing up, he found Mac staring at him strangely. He raised his index finger, indicating for her to wait one minute. Reaching into the tub, he turned the water on and placed the plug in the drain before pulling the shower tab. Sounds of running water assaulted the room. "Sorry. . .I just needed to make sure they couldn't hear us." He said, his body so close to Mac's that she could feel his breath on her skin.

"Hear us?" She didn't quite understand until it dawned on her. The thing that Harm was holding in his hand, she'd used before, helping him out on a small case. "Bugged? The house is bugged?"

Harm nodded, "But, it's a little more than that. . .There are cameras, one in the living room, one out on the deck, one in the office. . ." Damnit, he couldn't get the images out of his head, a small black and white video of him and Mac intimately wrapped together. The thought of someone watching them made him so sick. "And our room."

Mac's face fell, literally, it was almost as if she could see into his mind and the horrible picture that it painted. Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around herself, but couldn't shake the feeling that she'd been. . .violated. "So she has videos of us. . .of us. . ."

"Yes." He said so softly she almost didn't hear him. Leaning in he placed his hands on her arms, rubbing his palms up and down. "She wants me to leave you." Mac's head shot up at this revelation, her eyes taking a darker shade – she was getting angry. "She thinks that if I do, you'll. . .lose it." He placed his hands on either side of her, against the basin. "They know about the drinking, Mac." God, did he want to forget about that, to ignore and pretend it didn't happen. But, he saw her on the screen, pouring herself a drink. He'd tasted the vodka on her lips. "I tasted it on your lips."

Mac felt like she'd been stabbed. The look in his eyes, sad and disappointed, it was the one thing that had stopped her from swallowing, from giving into the liquid oblivion which was taunting her. "I _didn't_ drink." She almost had, yes, and Hewitt was right, she was losing it. But, it never went that far, almost, but not quite. "I spit it out, I never swallowed it down." Her head came down, eyes situated on an imaginary spot on the floor.

"But, you would have, eventually." He stated almost casually because he knew it was a given. Buying that bottle was the first step and it was only logical to take the second when she was hurting as much as she was. "Mac. . .Mac, talk to me, please." Harm tucked his index finger under her chin and then raised her head up, so he could look in her eyes.

"Harm. . .Yes! I would have had a God damned drink, alright! I would have and my life would have spiraled out of control again. . .I'm an _alcoholic_, that just doesn't vanish, you know?"

"I never said it did, but, if you were having problems why not go to AA?"

"It's not that simple. . .The program doesn't work if. . .if." She trailed off, eyes scanning the floor again. The guilt that she felt was immeasurable. But, it was the hurt in his voice that made the pain in her heart so much worse.

"If what, Mac?"

"It doesn't work if you _don't want_ to work it. . .I lost you, I had no reason to work it, not anymore." Pushing away from him, Mac paced – as much as possible in the small space. "Remember I asked you once if you thought it was dangerous to feel _this_ much?"

"Yes. . .And I agreed that. . ."

"Well, there _is_ a danger. . .Damnit, I'm not always strong! Yes, I'm a Marine, but that doesn't make me any less human. . .It doesn't make me any less fallible!" She wound up and punched the wall but felt no pain, the one in her heart hurt more. "I've never, ever felt this way about anyone. . .And, it scares the hell out of me. . .And I know it scares the hell out of you too."

Being on a carrier away from Mac had afforded him plenty of time to think about them. Mac had always been special to him – someone who understood him while no one else did. And then, there were times when he wondered if she ever understood him at all. He wasn't kidding when he'd asked for operating instructions, but now, standing across from her, his pride and soul wounded, he realized one thing that had been eluding him – they weren't that different. It could be argued that they were the same person, searching for the one thing that could make them whole again. He'd found that in Mac, but it didn't come without its set of risks. Maybe it had been a blessing that they hadn't gotten together until now? Hell, he knew it was. If she was driving him crazy just sitting next to him, he wasn't sure how he'd survive working with her if they'd been intimate. "Hell yes, I'm scared!. . .I'm scared of a lot of things. . .I'm scared of losing you, of living my whole life without feeling what I do for you. . .I'm human too, Mac. . .It took that time apart for me to see that. . .that you were a part of me. That I couldn't let you go, no matter what I tried. . .That I needed you. . . and I'm not letting her take _you_ away from _me_."

She sank onto the edge of the tub, stretching her legs out before her, little droplets of water wetting her back. "And I don't want her to take _you_ away from _me_." Visions of him hurt, or worse, had kept her from going up against Hewitt directly. She would try to destroy Vic in court, but what exactly would that solve if the person behind it all wasn't affected? "What exactly did she tell you?"

"She wants to bring down the 'boys club' that we call the Navy. . .And that's where you come in. . .Hewitt figures it will get her votes. . .I have a feeling that she has most of her players in the game, but you're the superstar, the one she's missing."

Mac sighed. "It's an interesting perspective. . . Why _me_ specifically? I don't have the cleanest record. . .I'm far from superior."

"Vic picked you." At her raised brow, he couldn't help but chuckle. "He was sent to spy on us in JAG HQ and found himself. . .enamored with you."

The look of disgust on her face couldn't be hidden. She was glad they were having this conversation in the bathroom should she have to hurl. "That good for nothing, piece of shit."

The images of Mac holding the bottle of vodka still tormented him, it showed in his voice. "She also thinks that the best way to get you to do what she wants it to knock you down. . .Madam Secretary believes you will turn to Vic when your guard is down."

"That'll be the day." She snorted, shaking her head. Out of all of the insane ideas, that definitely topped the bill. "Like I'd ever go to that creep."

"She wants me to break it off with you." At Mac's shocked expression, he shrugged. "Losing me once made you. . . you went. . .to the bottle. . .She thinks that if you lose me again, it will break you to the point that you'll concede with what she wants. . .To what Vic wants." Harm stood in front of her, then squatted down so that they could be at eye level. This was important, more important than his own life. People they loved and cared for were in danger. "What I am about to tell you, truthful or not, will make you understand why I'm conceding to what she wants." He didn't outright break it off with her, but the words he said were enough to leave a bad feeling in his heart.

"You're what?" Her eyes went wide with shock, was he seriously toying with the notion of leaving her? And for what? Because Hewitt's empty threats had choked him into giving in? "What did she threaten you with? My life? If that's the case you can tell her where to shove. . ."

"Our family." He said without preamble, sighing as he sat Indian style on the tiled floor. "She threatened to hurt Mattie and our godchildren. . .And I know. . .Believe me, I know that there's a _huge_ possibility that those might be empty threats. . .But, if Vic nearly got away with murdering me. . ."

Mac's lower lip trembled with the repressed emotions, the ones she'd been holding back for fear of breaking what was left of her control. "I don't want to lose you. . .Not again."

"I don't want to lose you either, Mac. . .But, we're backed up against a wall here. . ."

"No." She refused to believe that it was over, that the bitch and her son had won. "There's still the trial. . .I'll use that to do some damage to Vukovic, maybe it'll tip Hewitt's hand?"

Harm scrubbed a hand over his face. The trial, while he believed it would do some damage, what chances did they have of it actually coming to fruition? Hewitt was likely to assign the best bull to the case and pay any cost so that her little boy comes out smelling like a rose. What then? He couldn't bare the thought of losing Mac, but the possible lives of innocents lay in his hands. In their hands. "Mac, let's just get out of here, for now. . .I'm tired, my head hurts. . .We have these damned _bugs_ all over the house. . ."

"Where would we go? Chances are they're watching the house too."

He shook his head. "I thought of that and was watching all of the cars on the way from Coronado. . .I wasn't being tailed. . .Maybe we should go stay with my folks? They'd love to have you around for. . ."

"No, Harm. . .We're not getting your folks involved in this. . ."

She was right of course, and it wasn't something he was willing to do either. But, he needed some place safe. A place that he knew wasn't compromised. The sound of the water running gave him a unique idea – a neutral, safe and secure setting. In fact, you couldn't go in without a membership. "We can stay on the _Lady Patricia_. . .I'll go ahead and contact Gunny and Mike. . .Whether she likes it or not, I'm getting these bugs out of here."

"You know? We should also forego speaking over the cellphones. . .It's a cinch that they are probably bugged too." She stood up, suddenly remembering an ingenious device she'd seen at the gas station just a few days prior. "We can get those cellphones, the prepaid ones?. . .They don't collect any type of account information, just give you the number and unless you call to add minutes and use a credit card, it's virtually untraceable." Glancing around the room, which was quickly filling with steam from the shower, Mac couldn't help but sigh. She was being chased from her home, "There's a grand possibility that the SECNAV will become enraged when she finds out you removed the bugs."

While this was almost a guarantee, Harm wasn't about to allow her to infringe on their private lives more than she had. "I gave that some though on the way back. . .Frankly, she can kiss my ass. . .And that's exactly what I'm going to tell her should she contact me."

"That might not be wise."

"No, but I don't care." His hands came to her shoulders, then ran down Mac's arms. "Get a sea bag, some necessities, we'll sleep on the boat tonight. . .Maybe tomorrow we'll have a fresh perspective?"

"Harm, I don't want to give up without a fight." The look in his eyes though, conveyed just the opposite feelings from him. Was he actually conceding to Hewitt's design without really weighing in the facts and possibilities?

"Neither do I, Mac. . .Neither do I."

1802 Local  
Secretary of the Navy  
Caroline Hewitt's Mansion  
Coronado, California

Despite the two cups of coffee she'd had, Caroline Hewitt was feeling the effects of a growing hangover. And damnit, it was only six in the evening, too early for hangovers. Had she still been a regular citizen, this would have been grounds to check herself into rehab, as it was, the whole twelve step program wasn't working at all. "So much for AA," she snorted, gulping down what was left of tepid hazelnut coffee.

Using her handy dandy remote, she pointed towards the picture bringing up the flat screen TV and its little images coming from the MacKenzie/Rabb house. To be fair, she never watched. Voyeurism wasn't really her thing, for that she had people that she paid well. People that listened in to, not only Mac, but other prominent figures that she believed would get her into the White House. All of the others were willing to go to bat for her without much coaxing, if any. Then again, most didn't know what she'd let slip to MacKenzie. _"He's my son!"_ The words came out of her mouth in anger as a way to calm the waters. All it did was tip her hand into a plan that would have never been set to motion had Vukovic not been so stupid.

Then again, Gregory hadn't asked her for much, just to find a way to unite him and the beautiful Colonel. It was she that started seeing the proverbial dollar signs behind it all. Mac had made quite a name for herself in the San Diego military community. The Navy Times had continually followed her exploits as she excelled from one case to another. Her command was one of the smoothest running ones.

"Mother? What is that?" His voice had startled her out of her reverie. When Caroline brought her head up, she found Vic engrossed with the TV screen. "What is this?"

_Shit. _She though to herself, then quickly brought the painting down over the screen. "Nothing you should concern yourself with, dear." Hewitt had never let Vic see the footage for fear of what he would do. Yes, he was her son and though she stated otherwise, Caroline had a gut feeling those accusations of rape had a validity to them. And then, that thing with Captain Rabb. Thankfully Vic had the better sense not to outright put a bullet in the man's brain, but what he'd done was equally stupid. So much for discretion! Now, she was sure if he'd seen the footage of Rabb and MacKenzie in post coital bliss, the shit would hit the fan, literally.

Vic just chuckled it off. "You really do play hard ball, don't you mother?"

"Only way to play, Gregory. Only way to play." Groaning, she brought her hands up to her temples, rubbing in a circular motion. "I thought you were going back to your condo. What are you still doing here?"

"I was working in the library." He said, which contained a partial truth. Work gave him an excuse not to seethe at knowing that Rabb was once again with MacKenzie. Slowly, he walked around and sank into one of the chairs across from her desk. "How did the meeting with Rabb go? I tried to listen in, but your guard is an asshole."

"My guard is doing what I pay him to do." She stated cheekily. "Why are you so concerned anyway? Afraid that your mother hasn't a clue what to do?"

"No, just afraid that you have an agenda that doesn't involve me. . ."

Hewitt chuckled. Damnit, he was an adult and yet he had a tendency to act like a little boy who'd had his toy taken away. "Gregory, not everything revolves around _you._" Her tone was severely bitter, but she found that was the only way to get the message across to him. "While you want MacKenzie only as a trophy wife, she's the missing piece of the puzzle that might slip me into the White House. . .That's a helluva lot more important than _your_ love life."

Vic stood up and slammed his fist into the desk. "You promised me! You told me that in order to make up the past, you'd give me something I wanted. Well, I want her! Since I met Sarah in Falls Church, I've wanted her. . .Hell, I know it won't last, but it sure as hell will be fun. . .And now, that Rabb is still alive, I want to see the look on his face when she chooses me!"

"You really are delusional if you believe she'd _willingly _choose you over him." Short of pointing a gun to her head (which she doubted would even work), Mac would never chose her son. Not without a good reason.

"Then I'll get rid of him. . ." Swiftly he turned, making his way over to the door.

"GREGORY!" Her voice made her headache just a little worse for wear, but at least she stopped him. "As romantic a gesture this seems to you, you're already being investigated. Don't make things worse for yourself. If you get caught, then it's bye bye MacKenzie!" Not that she cared about that part. Her concern laid more in the realm of the things, illegal things, that he'd done on her behalf. Maybe she should have bribed him another way, offered something else. Money, maybe? Hewitt always believed that MacKenzie would be a passing fancy. "Look, Rabb has offered to back off from her. . .He just wants a little time, that I'm going to give to him. . .I owe them both _that_ much."

Mirthlessly, Vic chuckled. "Time is the worst thing you can give them. . ."

"Maybe, yes. . .But, I refuse to take another life to boost my career or your pathetic fetishes, Gregory. . .Not when there are other ways. Not when he took himself out of the game."

Alright, so she had a point, but there was one key thing that disturbed him. "Harm will _always_ be around. . .He'll be looking out for her for the rest of his life."

"I'm certain he will. . .But, Rabb is a man of his word, if he says he'll back off, then he'll back off, if only to protect her."

Vic wrapped his hand around the door handle and squeezed hard. "He better back off, because, Madam Secretary, if _I_ don't get what _I_ want, I'll make damned sure _you'll_ never get what _you_ want."

"Gregory, don't threaten me, you don't have the means to carry it out."

"No, but accusations seem to work pretty well in politics. . .Sober up, _ma'am._" He said, then waved as he stepped out of her office.

1830 Local  
San Diego, California

Driving around in a Red Corvette wasn't exactly inconspicuous, but at least it had the speed to get away from anyone – within reason. Mac was behind the wheel as Harm tried to non-chalantly keep his eyes on all of the cars on the road. They had taken every shortcut known to man, but still had to take main roads which was where Harm found their pursuant. "Three cars back." He said, keeping his eye on the side view mirror which Mac had adjusted for him.

At a stop light, she was able to freely glance at the rearview mirror. "Yeah, I see him. . .or her. . .They've been tailing for the last ten blocks. . .I'm going to pull into the 7-Eleven up the block. . .They sell those phones I told you about. . .We can pick up something to eat as well. . ."

Harm nodded. "Good idea, stay with the car though. I didn't find a tracking device on it before we left and I sure as hell don't want to give them the chance to stick one on us now."

"I'll gas up then." She pulled the Corvette into a vacant gas pump, then stepped out. Knowing they were being tailed, Mac pulled out her credit card and slipped it into the slot on the gas pump, using it as a cover to look out for the car. Then, to her surprise, the vehicle actually drove right up and parked on the opposite side of the pump.

A man in a sharp, fancy suit stepped out and grinned at her as he stepped to the side to grab the windshield cleaners. "You gonna use these, ma'am?"

Mac plastered on a charming smile and shook her head. "No, you go ahead." Willing herself to catch her breath, she punched in her zip code then chose the appropriate gas for her vehicle. _The nerve!_ She thought, still seething at this turn of events. It had been the first time someone of his kind had literally just driven right up. On the norm, they kept their distance, this time, she figured he had to be really good or just really confident to pull a stunt like that.

She slipped the pump nozzle into the gas tank then turned towards the establishment. Harm was holding a green basket filled with all sorts of food supplies. Mac watched him intently, willing him to turn and acknowledge her. When he did, she made a slight gesture with her head that he caught immediately. Nodding back to her, he continued to search the store, careful to keep an eye on her as he moved. His eyes widened with fear as the man stepped behind her. "Mac." He mouthed, but the moment she caught it, Mac felt someone tap her shoulder.

"Nice car." Mr. Fancy Suit said with a stunning smile. "How long you had her? Looks brand newish."

To her credit, she was flabbergasted only for a second or two before recovering. "She's actually an oldie. . .going to be eleven in May. . .She got a paint job for her birthday last year and I make sure she gets serviced a few times a year." Part of her wanted to grab the pump and whack him over the head with it, but maybe it was better this way? To make them believe that they were had.

"Very impressive to find a woman who takes care of her vehicle."

Mac laughed without much feeling, "Yea, well, when you have a price tag like this baby had, it's more convenient to keep it running well. . ." When the pump clicked to signify the tank had been filled, she turned quickly, dripping gas over Mr. Fancy Suit's expensive shoes. "Woops! I'm so so sorry! I'm such a klutz!"

The man, now clearly irritated, took several steps backward, moving out of the foul smelling puddle at his feet. "Yes, well. . .have a good evening."

From his perch near a Coca-Cola cooler, Harm stood, watching the exchange with a sly smile. He patiently waited for the man to leave before paying for the groceries and returning to the car. "I got those phones." He said, whipping one out and tearing through the package. The clerk said they were easy to use. Even comes with batteries and a charger. Just need to charge it for about twelve hours."

Mac nodded, "That gives us some time. . .What do we do about Mr. Fancy Suit?" She pointed towards the adjacent street noting that his car was parked to the side of the road.

"Weeeell." Harm began, conspiring smirk in place. "You said you wanted to fight. . .I say we give him a run for his money. . .See what this baby can still do." He patted the dash board and turned to give her an evil looking smile.

The car revved to life with one turn of the ignition and Mac turned towards him with a challenging smile. "This car can still do what it was meant to do and then some. . .I added an Airaid a couple of years ago. . .makes her run a little faster and a hell of a lot more efficient." She moved cautiously out of the 7-Eleven and them made a sharp turn, not down a main street, but down an alley just behind several establishments. From the street across they could hear screeching tires, Mr. Fancy Suit was in hot pursuit. Turning to the side Mac found Harm grabbing to the dashboard like it was a life raft. "You okay, Captain?. . .Thought you fighter jocks loved the speed, the thrill of the chase."

"Just watch the road, Mac!" He pointed to an oncoming stack of boxes which they flew through, sending cardboard up into the air. "So much for the new paint job!" He said, still holding onto the dash as she took a sharp right out of the alley and onto a main street. "You're going the wrong way!" He yelled when he found Mac heading towards the airport.

"Harm! Shut up!" She yelled back at him, speeding through streets, praying that she wouldn't hit someone or something in the process. Mac weaved her way past several cars, keeping on eye on the rearview and a car that kept gaining. "I'm going to head into the MCRD."

Okay, so he hadn't thought of that. "With the new security measures he won't be let in, will he?"

Mac shook her head, lately, if you were a civilian, you had nothing to do on any military installation unless you worked there or were expected. "Nope, but we will. . . .There's an exit on the other end. By the time he goes around the perimeter, assuming he goes the right way, we'll be long gone."

1855 Local  
San Diego Yacht Club  
San Diego, California

The plan had indeed worked, allowing Mac and Harm to arrive to the Yacht club without anyone else following. She'd parked the car in a slot where it wasn't visible from the road, then headed down the docks to _The Lady Patricia._ Harm jumped in first, using his spare key to open the door to the galley and then taking each bag from Mac before helping her onboard. They descended into the darkness which was quickly bathed with light with one flick of the light switch. Sighing, Harm settled into the dinette, Mac following suit and sitting just across from him.

Mac glanced around, unable to stop memories of the first time she'd been on the boat. It wasn't that long ago and yet, it seemed like eons had gone by. They had quite a time and it was something she wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Frowning, she ran her fingers over a worn piece of the dinette and sighed. "I really believed that our second time on this boat would be so. . ._romantic_." She breathed out, feeling like a lovesick fool. But, she was tired of hiding her feelings from him. They loved each other, what was the point of shying away from comments that affirmed that? "We'd pledge our undying love to each other, have dinner, then spend the night covered in nothing but sweat."

Automatically, Harm's hands wrapped around hers, his gaze pulling her to look at him. A tired smile came across his lips. "Well, no matter what, this boat is pretty charming, romantic. . I already pledged my undying love for you. And if you're in the mood to sweat we can do some engine work on her."

"Not funny." She said, the upturn of the sides of her mouth, saying just the opposite. "I am starved though. . .Maybe we should make something to eat, it might give us some perspective?"

"Sounds good. . .I'll rummage through the bags and you put the cell phones to charge in the stateroom. Once it gets some juice, I'll give Mike and Gunny a call." Harm pulled out several packages from the bags, none that could be considered ingredients for a healthy meal. Everything in that place was full of sugar, salts and enough cholesterol to stop a healthy man dead in his tracks. It could have been worse, he figured. He could have been back in that hospital. Shaking his head, he opened up two cans of Chunky soup and poured them into a pot that he'd taken out of the cupboard. Mac wasn't the only one thinking about another trip on this boat, he'd been trying to drag her out since the Patterson and Jarvis debacle. They just never had the time. And now, time was running out, ticking away in such a frantic pace.

He knew that he couldn't let her go and yet, if it protected those that they loved, maybe that was exactly what he had to do? Yes, they were both fighters, but sometimes fighting doesn't solve the problem, only exacerbates it. Grabbing two bowls, he poured the now boiling soup into each and then reached for a box of oyster crackers. "Mac, dinner's ready."

When she returned back into the galley, all signs of sadness had literally evaporated. Her current look, he knew quite well – it screamed: 'Marine on a Mission.' "I have a plan."


	26. The Best Laid Plans

Hey Guys!

Sorry for the delay, didn't realize I had this in my inbox, betaed and ready  
to post! Shame on Jackie!

I'm a chappie and a half away from being done. The story will last EXACTLY  
to Number 30.

Then I plan to take a break, post something that I have in my PC for the  
Ezboards FOJ virtual JAG season while I vacation/deleted/re-write "The Webbs  
We Tangle Ourselves In" which may or may not have a different title.

So here we go!  
Enjoy!

**PART 26 – The Best Laid Plans**

Harm's spoon paused half way to his mouth, his brow furled and that 'Rabb in the Headlights' look came on with full force. Had he been eating something, chances are he would have choked. "No, Mac. No way."

A minute earlier she had returned from the stateroom with a crazy look in her eyes, on full blown, Marine Mission mode. "Yes, Harm. . .It'll work."

Of that he wasn't quite sure. "Who's going to watch your six if I am on some carrier, Mac?. . . How the hell would I be able to live with myself if. . ."

"Harm, would you let me finish." She shook her head, why was it that men never really seemed to listen or let women finish? Grabbing a handful of Oyster crackers, she poured them into the soup. Mac's idea sounded risky: doctoring military orders to send Harm back out to a carrier, ASAP. "She doesn't have to know that the orders aren't real." She pointed out with a grin, then blew on her spoon before eating some of the soup. "If she _thinks_ you are gone, then that will take the pressure off of you. . .I can just _fake_ falling apart."

Okay, so he got it now – her plan to have him go away was just a rouse, nothing more. Still, they had one little problem. "If they're watching us now, Mac. . .Chances are they'll be waiting on the tarmac for me to hop onto a transport."

Immediately, her face fell. Alright, so she hadn't thought it out _that_ far. "I didn't think about that." Sighing, she dropped the spoon into the bowl and leaned back. She suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.

"Although. . .One of the newer guys, while we don't look exactly the same, he's around my height, my build and has dark brown hair. . .shoulder length dark brown hair. . .but, I am sure we can ask him to cut it as a favor."

Liking the idea again, Mac pulled the bowl back to her and grabbed the spoon. "That could work. . .I mean, if I can get them to bring a COD, you'll have to wear the cranials, right?"

Harm nodded. "Which means, I won't be recognized. . ." It was amazing how quickly their spirits could be lifted with such a small window of opportunity. High spirits meant more ideas. "You know? We need to get someone high profile on board. . .High profile but with an ability to keep their mouths shut."

"Any idea who? All of my high profile contacts, while nice when dealing with legal matters, would love nothing more than to see me fall on my face with all of this." She chewed thoughtfully on an oyster cracker, then swallowed it down. "Maybe someone on _the Hill._ . .A woman that we've helped in the past." Mac hinted, hoping he'd catch on.

"Bobbi." He grinned at Mac. If there was one person he knew that was powerful and had a penchant for grinding axes, it was Bobbi Latham. Furthermore, she'd made Senator now, or at least, that was the last thing he'd heard. Thing was, would she still want to talk with him? "Let's just hope she doesn't hold grudges forever."

Mac shrugged. "She _was_ your girlfriend, I figure that the good times alone should. . ." She trailed off suddenly, catching his wide eyed look and that spoon, once again, stopping an inch from his mouth. "What?"

Harm dropped his spoon into his bowl and sat back. Out of all of the things that he'd believed, never had he thought that people. . .that Mac. . .Oh Boy. "Is that what you thought?" God, the notion of he and Bobbi getting together was nauseating from the moment they had their first dinner. He had intentions of going after her, this was true, but the second that every conversation turned from generic subjects to politics, Harm found his head spinning. Then there was the detachment factor – Bobbi couldn't have a multifaceted relationship with someone working with her. It was probably one of the reasons why she and Sturgis broke it off as well. Not to mention, Bobbi was a little too larger than life for his tastes.

Sighing, she took another swallow of soup. "Harm, you and Bobbi were quite cozy when I. . .look, anyway, what does it matter? It's past." Mac tried to rationalize it – their past lovers were just that – past, and God keep them there. In any case, she wasn't the last bit intimidated by Bobbi before and she sure as hell wasn't now either.

"Woah, woah, woah. . .For the record, Bobbi and I. . ._never. ."_

"Never?" She interrupted with a smile which widened as he got flustered. "Harm, really. . ."

"Mac, really. . .Bobbi and I were never an item. . .It didn't go past one kiss and dinner. . . She was. . .was."

"A control freak?

He nodded. "Something like that. . ." Then there was another thing which had amazed him. One thing that had kept him up that night even though his bed was empty. _"I never understood why you two never got together."_ Bobbi was fishing, of course, that was one of her many talents. But, to be completely fair, it wasn't as if he'd never thought about it. He was just playing it safe then. Damnit, they'd wasted so much time. "Let's lock her down and go to bed, Mac. . .We're going to need all the rest that we can get."

March 29, 2010

1230 Local

Rabb and Galindez Investigative Services

Oceanside, California

The welcome Harm received upon heading into the office brought his mood up slightly. Their secretary had decorated the whole place with streamers, balloons and a pretty, hand made sign that said 'Welcome Home.'

_Home._ He smiled at the notion and then quickly remembered their current situation. Home wouldn't be home without Mac, at least not anymore. She was a part of him now, almost like a fiber that made who he'd become. Yet, there was so much to do and so much that could go wrong. "Sir, there is someone here to see you, says he's an old friend."

"An old friend?" Harm shrugged, maybe Vic came to make a stand? It was doubtful, he was pretty sure that Vukovic didn't have the guts to confront him head on.

"Hey buddy." The low baritone brought Harm's head up sharply. Standing at the door wearing his Naval whites was one Sturgis Turner. "I guess I should have made an appointment." He joked lightly, waiting for the initial shock to wear off of his friend. When Harm didn't outright respond, he tried a different approach. "May I come in?"

"Ah. . .S-s-sure." He shook his head slightly, then stood up, came around his desk and shook Sturgis' hand. "How are you?"

"Good, but I think the real question you want to ask is 'why are you here?'" Sturgis grinned, then slipped into the chair across from Harm's desk. "This is a nice place. . .Mac told me where I could find you. . .Looks like I might be stationed over here. Cresswell has some old blood back in JAG HQ, I wasn't really fitting in."

As far as Harm remembered, Sturgis always had a problem fitting in. It was the same at Annapolis and sure as hell didn't change when he joined JAG Ops. "I heard you did a great job with Mayfield. . .You did Mac good."

"Yeah, it was a good case. . .Not exactly the first one I wanted, but sometimes it's better to get tossed into the deep end." He remained silent for a moment, the tension thickening so much it threatened to choke his life. Sighing, he leaned forward on the chair, balancing his cover on his knee. "This is difficult for me, Harm. . .When you left Falls Church, we really weren't on good terms."

"Gee, wonder who's fault that was." Harm said, his tone taking a dangerously territorial form. "You were an ass, Sturgis."

Holding up his hands in defense, he said, "I deserve that and I agree. . .But, did you ever stop to wonder why?"

"That was your own doing, pal. . .When you were acting JAG, you were running the place like a Tyrant."

Ah, he knew this would happen, that the past would be dredged up in its most dirty form. But, Sturgis wasn't there to fight or to prove who was right or wrong. He just wanted his friend back. "Harm, friends, even good friends, have a habit of running over each other. . . You and Mac, both did some crazy stunts when I was acting JAG. . .Because I was your friend, you thought I would bend the rules. . .And I wasn't going to do that. My career had been on the line a year prior, eyes were on me. . .Eyes were on our office. . .I'm sorry it got personal. . .And I'm even more sorry I hung you out to dry during your investigation. . ."

Harm took a breath. Alright, so some things Sturgis had said were right on the money. "I pissed you off, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. . .Look, you and I have been good friends for many years. . .I want to put this all behind us, start new?"

It probably wouldn't have been that easy to give in, had Mac not told him of the conversation she and Sturgis had back in Falls Church. They all had changed, Sturgis as well. Maybe it was time for another chance? "You know, I've grown up a bit in the last few years." The corners of his mouth turned up to a smile, "Yea, man. . .we can start fresh. . .clean slate, what have you."

"Harm." Gunny stepped into the office, stopping abruptly, when he found Sturgis sitting in the chair. "Commander Turner, it's been a long time." He'd met the man once when he'd returned to JAG ops just to visit. "I thought you left the Navy?"

Sturgis grinned, "Yea, but once it's in your blood, it's in your blood. How are you, Gunny?"

"Doing pretty good. . .Then again, I got a good business partner." He turned to Harm and grinned, "About what you needed, I got Mike over at your place now with his nephew, the computer geek."

"Computer geek?" Harm said with a raised brow, the feeling that he'd been gone forever just settled in a bit more.

Gunny nodded. "Yea, Mike's nephew is this computer wiz kid. . .he spoofed up some of our gadgets, created new ones. . .He's willing to be our tech guy while he finishes college. . .Anyway, he and Mike are going to make a full sweep of the house and put a few jammers. . .Mike was thinking of pulling a surveillance system in as well and have various mini screens in the house so that you can keep tabs on the cameras."

Warning bells were going off in Sturgis' mind. If so much protection was needed, something was wrong. That made sense, he figured, especially when he considered the distressed look on Mac's face when he'd met with her earlier. "I am about to pry, but, what's going on?"

Harm and Gunny glanced at each other almost as if they were leery to let someone in on another secret. When he'd arrived at the office, after a little 'welcome home' party, he brought Gunny and Mike into his office and discussed all of the details. Both men were willing to cooperate without any coaxing. Mike Benson, being an ex-cop, was always looking for ways to catch the bad guys. Gunny just had this innate sense of protecting to those he cared for, he was totally in. All that was missing was his look-alike which was on an investigation in La Jolla. "Did Mac talk to you about anything?"

"She told me to take the day to get settled in and to get ready to work, that's about it." Sturgis _had_ seen that odd look on her face and while he did want to ask about it, he had a feeling that the office wasn't exactly the best of places. "She did seem _preoccupied _today."

"That would probably be an understatement." Harm scoffed. Part of him wanted to be in JLSS watching her six 24/7. He just didn't trust Vic around her. "Did you happen to bump into Vukovic?"

Snorting, Sturgis rolled his eyes, "Vicpuke you mean? Yes, I did. He's still his cocky little self. Although, it appeared he was just a bit giddy today. . .He didn't think much of me joining JLSS and was quite verbal to Mac about it. She put him in his place though."

"That's my girl." Harm grinned. Pointing at the door, he waved Gunny to close it. "Close the hatch, Gunny. . .I think it might be a good idea if we bring Sturgis up to speed."

The whole plan was pretty straight forward. First, they would remove all of the buys from his and Mac's house and replace them with new ones for them to track any unlawful entries. Harm was sure that, by the end of the day, Hewitt was likely to call him and he would state, in no uncertain terms, that any negotiations between the two of them would only be accepted if she agreed to cut Mac a little slack.

The next part of the plan would be a nasty, public breakup with Mac and his subsequent 'request' to head back out to sea. He would take that opportunity to plant his double on the transport while he settled into a disguise in order to watch over Mac without detection. Mike and Gunny would quietly investigate Hewitt and Vukovic, trying to come up with some dirt that would be of use.

"I'm also trying to see if I can get Bobbi in on this." Harm said, knowing it was a rather uncomfortable situation for his longtime friend. Sturgis' breakup with the former Congresswoman, while downplayed, had hurt him severely.

"Considering her advocacy for women in the military and her vehement dislike of improper command influence, I'd say she'll be more than happy to jump aboard." Hey, even if she did rip his heart out and stomped on it, the woman did have her merits. He shrugged at Harm's confused expression. "Hey, she's good at what she does. . Now, how are you going to meet up with her without them figuring it out?"

Ah, that was the catch 22, Harm's face fell slightly. "I haven't thought about that yet. . .I'm not too keen on going to Washington."

As it always was with the Rabb and Galindez staff, someone always had a good idea. This time, it belonged to Gunny. "I think we should tempt her to visit the lovely city of San Diego. . .and quickly."

1300 Local

Joint Legal Services Southwest (JLSS)

San Diego, California

"Ma'am the files on the Holmes article 32. . .Looks to be a slam dunk. . ." Vukovic trailed off when he noticed that Mac hadn't acknowledged him. In fact, except for Turner's change of billet, he hadn't really seen her reacting much to anything. "Ma'am? Ma'am?" He came around her desk and placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking gently. "Mac?"

She jumped, startled then stared at him, her expression not the usual tough one he'd come to admire. No, she seemed lost. "Vukovic?" Mac glanced at him as if it were the first time she'd seen him. Her reaction was truly unsettling.

Vic nodded. "Yeah, it's me. . .Excuse me for prying, but what's wrong?" His hand was still on her shoulder, squeezing gently. He was surprised she didn't have him on the floor yet with her heel on his face.

Mac sighed slightly, then brushed an imaginary tear from her eye. "No-nothing. . .Just. . .I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." He continued to probe, knowing that the moment she turned on him, this momentary gentleness would be over. "I know you and I have issues. . .but, I want to be your friend. . .You _can_ trust me."

And that was the scary part, in some sick way, Vukovic could be trusted. Maybe not entirely, but Mac trusted that he would buy her self-pity act which was a way to set in motion the fake break up between herself and Harm. "Can I trust you?. . .Can you trust me?" She whispered, her voice shaky with the emotions that she was faking.

Kneeling in front of her, Vic took her hands with his own. "I know you're out to nail my ass to the wall, but yeah, I think I can trust you. . .I know you're just doing your job."

"I'll be fine." She daintily slipped her hands out of Vic's then turned the chair to the side. "Just haven't been able to sleep much. . .I'll be fine." Mac reassured. "What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Vic took the file from the edge of the desk and placed it in front of her. "It's the Homles file, ma'am. . .I found something interesting. . .It's not looking so slam dunk for the defense anymore." He grinned.

"Good, I'll leaf through this once I get a chance. . ." Groaning, she pinched the bridge of her nose

Vic noticed her slight peeked appearance and, if he remembered correctly, she hadn't left the office at all that day. Which meant, he was sure she didn't have lunch. "Ma'am, have you had lunch?"

"No, why?" She tried not to sound too expectant and went back to slight ignorance.

He smiled, "Well, I haven't either and it would give me a chance to tell you about the case. . .Plus, I know you are prosecuting me and you haven't done a follow up interview. . .We can do it then?"

Not wanting to seem too unlike herself, Mac gave him a considering glance. "Are you trying to sway my case, Vic? Because it won't work."

Vic took a step back, putting on his most sincere looking expression. "Colonel, ma'am. . .I just want to make sure that the case is fair. . .and I just want to take a friend out to lunch to cheer her up."

"I don't need cheering up." She said defensively. Mac glanced at him, then sighed, seeming to relent. "But, I do need food, my blood sugar is low. . ." Wavering slightly, she pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand again and with the other waved towards the door. "Go get a car from the motor pool. . .Rabb's got my Vette." She said the last part with a slight bitterness that wasn't lost on Vic. "I need to speak to Commander Roberts. . .How about we head out in an hour?"

As much as he tried, Vic couldn't hide the smirk. "Will do, ma'am." When he left the office, Mac swore he was practically skipping. _Good_, she thought. Now all she had to do was call Harm and let him know that they were headed out to lunch. It was time to put their little 'break up' act into full effect.

Grabbing the cell phone he'd bought at the Seven/Eleven, Mac punched in his number and waited for an answer. "Hey, in about an hour I'm going to lunch with Vic."

(Harm barely had a chance to get his bearings. If anything, he figured she was calling to commiserate their frustrations, to check in on his progress. This was a little quicker than expected. _"Wow, that's a bit early. I thought we were going to wait a week?"_)

"That was the plan, but he noticed I was feeling down today. So, I decided to milk it for all it was worth." She couldn't help but grin and it carried in her voice. "I brought Bud, Harriet, Jen and Mayfield up to speed. . .The rest of the staff will be in the dark."

(_"I talked to Sturgis, actually, he's standing in front of me now with an odd expression."_)

"Oh yea? How'd he take the news?"

(_"How'd he take the news?. . .Probably the same way the gang at JLSS did. Shock, horror, mild amusement."_ He chuckled slightly. _"Anyway, let me get out of here. . .I think it might be better if we cause a scene at JLSS than the restaurant. It might seem fishy if we wound up together at the same place.")_

Mac groaned loudly. The last thing she needed was to cause a scene at the place, but he was right, this was the best way. "Alright, but go easy. . .Last thing I need is more scuttlebutt."

(He knew that better than anyone, but he also knew that public displays tended to seal the deal better than anything. _"I promise to be gentle, Colonel. . .See you in a bit."_)

"Hurry."

Forty minutes later, she went searching for Vukovic when a certain Naval Captain/Private Investigator grabbed her arm. "Hey beautiful." They were never the type to do the public display of affection in the office, so he kept himself in check, only kissing Mac on the cheek. "Wanna head to lunch?"

Mac glanced around nervously. "I can't. . .I have a few cases to go over with the junior staff. . .rain check?"

Harm stared at her as if she were asking an odd request of him. "Mac, it can't be that important. . .JLSS _can_ run without you. . .C'mon, Sturgis and Bud can join us and we can trade JAG HQ stories, it'll be fun."

Almost as if she'd willed him to transpire in front of them, Vukovic came out of his office whistling Foreigner's "Waiting For A Girl Like You." He came to a dead stop five feet away from where Harm and Mac stood. An evil grin spread across his lips, no doubt just the very notion of Mac having lunch with _him_ would piss Rabb off. "Colonel, are you ready?"

Harm stared at the other man as if he were another life form. "Ready for what?" His tone of voice was dangerous, menacing and promised bodily harm. "Mac? Ready for what?" He stated impatiently, wrapping a hand around her bicep which he pulled to the side, away from Vic.

"Harm. You're hurting me." She stated in a voice that promised a dishing of Marine punishment for non-compliance. "And not that it's any of your business, but we're going to lunch so that. . ."

"Why the hell are you going to lunch with him?" Harm interrupted, his hand still wrapped around her bicep and showing no signs of moving any time soon. "The guy is a creep, Mac."

"Harm, don't make a scene."

He kept his voice low, but not low enough. Anyone standing at least twenty feet from the bullpen could hear the conversation without much effort. "Don't make a scene? _Don't _make a _scene? _After what he did you're going to lunch with him?

Mac sighed deeply, then jerked her arm out of his grasp. "I haven't questioned him again, alright. . .I thought it would be best to do it out of this office."

"This is some shit lawyer tactic, Mac. . . Were you even going to tell me about it?"

"Since when do I need to tell you about my ongoing's during working hours? Last I checked, I was the commanding officer around here and the only person I need permissions from is General Cresswell."

"I'm your boyfriend, I _need_ to know." He got closer to Mac, the heat from the argument, making it just a little too believable for his liking, but if it worked…

Sturgis took this time to shove an arm between his friends, pushing Harm away from Mac. "Harm, you're being an ass."

"You're on her side too, Sturgis?"

Pushing Harm backwards, Sturgis' hands came to his shoulders as he tried to be the voice of 'reason.' "Hey, it's not like that and you know it. . .This isn't the place. . .Save it until you get home."

"Whatever, let's just get out of here, Colonel MacKenzie is busy WORKING." Harm threw Sturgis' hands off of him, then stormed out of the office, almost running straight into Mayfield who was walking in from the break room.

"Harm, wait!" She stormed after him, her high heels clicking frantically on the tiled floor. Mac managed to catch up before he'd even left JLSS. They were still in plain sight of everyone. "Captain Rabb!" She tried his rank, cringing slightly as he came ramrod straight. When he turned around, the expression on his face was almost comical. Alright, so they couldn't help but follow orders when someone used that commanding tone. "Look, this is my job. . . There have been _plenty_ of times that you've gone with a client to a business lunch. . .Before you left, I do remember bumping into you at Starbuck's having coffee with a rather attractive, rather rich, rather _CLINGY_ blonde. . .And I do recall how much gentlemen prefer blondes."

He was tempted to say something about her involvement with fellow officers. Rather, a senior officer, but he couldn't do that. Harm loved her too much to tarnish her name again. Instead he moved in so close that only Mac would hear the next words. "When I start to move away, slap me. . .pretend I said something horrible." The look in her eyes told him that she didn't want it to go that far, but it needed to be done if it would seem real. "Mac, just do it. . .It's just another charade. We've done a few already. It'll work."

When he pulled away slightly, Mac wound up and struck the left side of his face with her right hand. The definite 'crack' sounded through out the office and both were sure that a few gasps were uttered. "You jerk."

Mustering his most pathetic look, he turned away from Mac and then made his way to the double doors. His hand grasped the handle as he turned to glance at her over his shoulder. "I'll see you at home."

Mac watched him leave, sensing an odd sadness behind it, though it was all a sham. She knew why though and this charade was just the beginning of it. It was going to be difficult to turn away from him even if it meant bringing Hewitt and Vic down. It was going to zap what was left of her strength.

"Nothing to see people, get back to work." Sturgis said, noticing that everyone was still, very much, routed in place. "That's an order, people."

Vic, who had been rooted in place during the whole altercation, cautiously made his way over to Mac who hadn't moved a muscle. "Ma'am. . .Ah, maybe lunch isn't such a hot idea?" As much as he wanted her, Vic knew a thing or two about women and being pushy wasn't going to cut it. Especially not with a woman like Mac.

"Commander, go and get the damned car. . .I can't be in this office at the moment. . .I just need to grab my purse, I'll meet you outside. . . Don't tempt me to make that an order." She said with a fake playfulness that he caught onto, which had been her intention. As Vic headed out of JLSS, she made her way back to her office, passing those that knew of the scheme and couldn't help but grin. "I believe Commander Turner told you all to get back to work. . .Or do you four want to get charged with DDO?" Magically, Bud, Jen, Harriet and Tali dispersed, each of them heading in varying directions. She would apologize later. For now, she had a date with the Devil's son.


	27. Outside Assistance

3 more! Just 3 more chappies! 28, 29 and 30! You guys are gonna lose it with 28, but it doesn't end in a cliffie. :D Anyway... ;) Moving right along, I LOVE the ending part of THIS chapter.

Hmmm Anyway.

:Grins:  
J.

**PART 27 – Outside Assistance**

March 29, 2010  
1920 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Mac slipped her key into the lock, stopping with her hand on the handle. It was unwelcome, this feeling of fear and trepidation to enter _her _own house. "This is ridiculous." And yet, ridiculous or not, knowing that Hewitt was watching left her with a sense of dread and vulnerability she wasn't willing to openly give into. "Fine." She resigned against the unwelcome feelings and pushed the door open. Mac quickly turned and closed the door, putting all of the locks in place to keep out anything that tried to destroy their safe place.

When she stepped through the small foyer and passed the French doors that opened to the living room, she could smell the wonderful scent of a home cooked meal. "Lasagna." She said with a smile as she went through the house, heading towards the source. Mac put down her briefcase on the sofa, stepped out of her heals and shed her drab green jacket, hanging it on the back of a dinning room chair. "You're sure that we should be here?" She questioned Harm, who turned around slowly to pin her with a 'did you ever doubt me' look.

"Cross my heart, hope to die." He made a big cross over his heart with his fingers, then walked over to her, his arms wrapping around her body. "The boys were here today. They removed everything and reinstalled some new stuff. . .We're safe."

Mac turned to her side, glancing towards the sliding glass door which was covered with a heavy, hotel-like window treatment. "This is our house, we shouldn't have to live like this." She rested her head against his chest, sighing deeply. The feeling of safety she usually found in his arms was superceded by the eerie feeling that they were being watched. It was plausible, even Harm, when he arrived at home earlier, had phoned that someone was tailing him.

"Mac, take a seat, relax. . .And tell me about lunch." He walked into the kitchen, slipped on a pair of oven mitts and proceeded to pull out a vegetarian lasagna from the oven, followed by garlic bread.

Lunch. It was normally something that Mac would look forward to. Usually, if neither she nor Harm were busy, they would meet up at a little café near base. Often, Bud and Harriet would join. Even when she wasn't with him, Mac had been known to love cuisine of all types. Today though. . . "Well, I ordered a nice, leafy salad, grilled chicken and an iced tea." She countered, making a face as Harm turned to her with a scolding look. "Hey, don't give me that look, Rabb. . .It's the truth."

"What about Vic?"

"He had the T-Bone, medium rare. . .and brown rice." She cringed slightly. "Do you know how disgusting medium rare steaks look? It was enough to turn me off of meat in general." Meats, to her, needed to be dead and cooked to perfection – aka well done. That slight bloodied state made her nauseous. "Anyway, it was. . .weird."

"Weird how?" Harm placed the pan in the center of the table and took a spatula to cut up the lasagna. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and it wasn't anything that he was too fond of. "Did he try something?"

Mac shook her head. If anything, Vic was being a real gentleman with her. It was odd and, to be perfectly honest, it threw her off stride. "He was being. . .God, forgive me for saying this: _Charming_. . .he was being _charming_." She took a bite of the lasagna which Harm had dished up and then swallowed down some water. "I went over the investigation and everything he said was verbatim. . .Too much damned time has passed for Vic to memorize it all. . .He's not going to crack. . .Not easily."

"He will." But his confidence wasn't shared. "Mac, I've seen you destroy tougher guys on the stand. I'm confident you will do the same to Vicpuke."

Despite herself, Mac couldn't help but chuckle. "Vicpuke?"

"Sturgis' idea, not mine." He grinned impishly and at her questioning glance, supplied, "We had a chat. . .We're okay. . .He's also on board with anything we need."

Her eyebrow rose quizzically, "So, in less than an hour you and Sturgis were all buddy, buddy again?" Mac sighed and shook her head. "We should have done this talking thing years ago. . .It's a helluva concept."

"Two lawyers who couldn't talk to each other, what are the odds?" Harm gently rested his fork on the side of the plate, then reached across the table and took her hand. "Mac. . .Tell me you'll be alright."

"When are you going to stop asking me that?"

"When you give me an answer that works." He said simply, his hand squeezing her own.

"I'm _not_ alright . .This is all out of sorts. . .I don't like things to be so out of control. . . But, I'll be fine. _We'll_ be fine." She said confidently and with a slight grin, raised his hand up so that she could kiss his palm. "You aren't leaving me, Harm. You aren't abandoning me. You'll be there."

The idea of being inside an SUV, listening device plugged onto his ear while she tried to pretend to enjoy Vukovic's advances was already making him queasy. Still, he couldn't tell her that because if he was unsure, Harm knew Mac would be too. "That's right. . .I'll be there."

She slipped her hand out of his and took her fork again. As usual, his cuisine was delicious. "I had Bud post a bulletin that Hewitt will surely receive about you going back to sea duty." She grinned impishly, "I made it look like you requested it."

Harm nodded, hoping that the SECNAV believed in the 'out of sight, out of mind' credo. "How much time do we have?"

"A day, maybe two. . .It's not much, but it's better than dragging this on. . .The longer we wait, the closer we get to Vic's Article 32. . .Do you think you'll be able to dig something up before then?"

Honestly? No, he didn't. People like Hewitt kept the dirty laundry sorted out and well hidden, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. "I don't know, but if there is something to dig up, I have plenty of shovels handy." He joked. "I have my best guys on the case. . . and me of course." His smug grin made her chuckle. "When is the Article 32?"

Mac took a sip of water, then stared up at the ceiling in thought. The Neroli thing was taking up a lot of time and man power, but maybe it was a good thing? She needed the time to prepare and dig up dirt. If there was anything to dig up. And, if there wasn't, Mac prayed that truth and justice would win out. "Roughly, a month. . .The time frame may be pushed up though. Loftness is being a real bear about it. He's trying to push for treason."

"Jesus. . .That would rattle a few cages."

"Which is why Hewitt is shitting bricks right now. . .This isn't a petty 'he said, she said' trial. The ramifications of Vic being accused of high treason is _huge._ They'll dig into everything, every aspect of his life. I just wish Loftness would back off a little, his pushing is stressing me out."

"It's understandable that he wants to nail Vic. It happened on _his_ ship. . .Captains are real anal about anything going South on a cruise." Knowing what he did about being in command, he could understand Loftness' grudge. "Guess I'd better pack my seabags, huh?"

"What did your co-worker think about impersonating you?"

Harm shrugged, "He's ex-navy, served for three tours, one out in the Med with the JFK, and two on the Seahawk. So he knows the ropes. . .We'll supply him with a letter to hand to Loftness, who will, hopefully, not give me an ass chewing for keeping him in the dark."

"It will be alright, all of it." At least, she swore that if she kept telling that to herself, it would be.

April 2, 2010  
1240 Local  
Joint Legal Services Southwest  
San Diego, California

There was no mistaking the tears that streamed down Mac's face when she stepped into JLSS a good four and a half hours late. "Ma'am?" Harriet was the first to notice and exchanged a knowing glance with Bud who had stepped out of his office when the bullpen went silent.

"Nothing, Lieutenant, get back to work!" Mac barked out, cringing inside at how mean that sounded. Not even bothering to remove her cover, she hurried through the bullpen, one hand gripped a brown paper bag which clearly concealed some sort of a bottle, the other hand wrapped around the handle of her briefcase. She passed Vic's office, noting with her peripheral vision that he was leaning against the doorframe, law book in hand. What she didn't see was the pleased expression that he was trying to hide, nor the swagger he used when entering his office again. She would be correct on her silent assumption that the first thing he would do is call his mommy.

For effect, she slammed the door, closed the blinds and then slid into her chair. "Jesus." This morning had been exhausting, to say the least. . .

After having an argument that could have been heard from outer space – a fake argument, that is – Harm stormed out of their home, seabag in hand, dressed in khakis with his bomber jacket draped over his shoulder. There was a van outside, waiting to take him to the airport. A van being driven by a disguised Gunny that carried an extra passenger, private investigator Lucas Monroe the man who was to play his double. Almost immediately they were being tailed, but Harm used a particular break in the traffic to duck under the seat while Luke took his place. From his spot, he made a call to Mac. "We're on our way. . .Good luck." For effects, there was to be another scene just as he boarded the COD.

Unless Hewitt's goons had falsified military identifications, it was certain that they would not be let in and would have to watch from a distance. Gunny confirmed this as the two men in a black sedan pulled off at a road that went around the perimeter of the airstrip. "Alright, Luke, good luck."

"Thank you, sir. . .I won't let you down." Lucas jumped off of the vehicle, taking Harm's bomber jacket and sea bag. He quickly hurried into a hanger where a handful of other military officers were waiting for their ride.

"Put this on, sir." A petty officer handed him the cranials as well as the vest which he needed to wear in order to board the COD.

Ten minutes later, they were boarded and ready to taxi when a Corvette came screeching to a halt a good hundred feet away. The driver, a female Marine Colonel, stepped out, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the engines. "No! You can't leave! You can't leave me. . .No!". . .

Cringing, Mac thought back to her little scene at the airport. God, she'd made a fool out of herself. It may have been for the greater good, but it still didn't sit well. Not any better was the stupid idea she'd had when passing a liquor store on the way into the base. She'd parked her car, raced inside and while the immediate temptation set in, all she'd bough was a bottle of tonic water which was wrapped up in a brown paper bag and appeared to be an alcoholic beverage. The two men who were following her, sitting in the same black sedan parked ten spaces back, certainly wouldn't notice that the bag's contents were of the virgin variety. On the way to the office, she'd made a point of taking a swig of the liquid, if only for effect.

Propping open her briefcase, she pulled out a medium sized vodka bottle with a little less than a thimble's worth of liquor which she dripped onto her uniform. She tightly capped the remaining tonic water and placed it inside a drawer. Haphazardly, she let the vodka bottle slide off the corner of her desk and shatter. "Damnit!" She yelled, loud enough for anyone eavesdropping to listen.

Almost as if on cue, both Jen and Vic rushed inside without even bothering to knock. "Ma'am, are you. . ."

"I'm fine, Petty Officer, please mind your business." She snapped hating each and every time this charade required for her to act rudely in regards to her friends. They all knew her sudden change in character was all aspects of their little game, bit it didn't make things any easier.

Vukovic shooed Jen out of the office, closing the door behind her as she left. "Colonel, I'm sorry for. . ." He stopped short, face turned slightly ashamed as his eyes locked on the origin of that shattering sound. For the first time in his life, Gregory Vukovic felt _guilt._ A pure an unadulterated guilt that showed him just how black of a soul he really had. The concept of pushing Mac to the breaking point was partially his idea, but he wasn't prepared to see the effects full force. In all honesty, he really never believed it would work, especially not this quickly. "Please tell me you didn't drink and drive."

"Why do you care?" She slurred, then made a deal out of standing up, only to crash into her chair again with a manic laugh. "You should stay away. . .I'm trouble for everyone who comes close."

"I like a little trouble." He said with a casual smile, his heart fluttering at even the slightest notion that Sarah MacKenzie thought about being close to him. "Listen, how about I take you home?"

If ever Mac had warning bells going off in her head, this certainly was the time. The last thing she wanted was Vic to ever step foot in their home. She looked him squarely in the eye and hiccupped, chuckling again. "You have court."

"And you can't be in this office the way you are. . .I'll have Jen drive you home."

Now that certainly sounded like a better idea. "Deal." Phase one of their plan was now complete.

April 7, 2010  
1750 Local  
San Diego International Airport  
San Diego, California

No one would have guess that the tall man dressed in a sharp suit, standing on the tarmac with a sign that read 'Senator Latham' was one Harmon Rabb Junior. He sported shoulder length blond hair, which was stylishly let loose. A dark blond, scruffy beard hid his facial features and his blue eyes were concealed by the use of brown contact lenses and the heavy, black rimmed glasses resting on his nose. Gunny said he looked European. One thing was for sure, he would not be recognized. Hell, he couldn't recognize himself. Just in case, he decided to add a British accent to his concealment. Mac would have been proud.

"You must be the limo driver?" A refrigerator of a man, dressed to the nines with a gray Armani suit asked him. If Harm was tall, this guy was at least a head taller and rather imposing. "I'm head of security for Senator Latham. . . She'll be joining me momentarily. . .I'll have to ask you to lean against the limousine and spread 'em. . . Standard procedure."

Harm nodded. "I ah. . .not a problem." He conceded knowing it wasn't a bright idea to state he was someone else or that his team had managed to confiscate the limousine, driver and all. Gunny would be driving the vehicle and Harm would, hopefully be seated in the back, chatting with Bobbi. He remained painfully still as the man searched him while another did a check of the limo itself and Gunny who had been sitting behind the wheel dressed in a black suit and driver's hat. "Satisfied?" He said, once Mr. Refrigerator turned away and spoke into a small receiver inside the arm of his jacket.

Seconds later, Bobbi descended the steps of her private Leer Jet. Cell phone pressed to her hear, she waved off one of the guards that offered to help her down the steps. To her credit and despite the tumultuous nature of politics, her appearance hadn't changed much at all. She was still attractive and still carried herself with the assured swagger of someone with power. Harm opened the door to the limo and offered his hand which she didn't take. "Thanks, but I can manage." She said with a rough tone, then slipped inside.

Harm followed and was quickly grabbed by his jacket, Mr. Refrigerator trying to pull him out. "Senator . .Senator, I need your help. . ." He didn't say his name, he didn't want to for fear of someone in her security detail finding the information profitable. Hell, the paranoia was starting to get to him, but in a world where money ruled, one could never be sure. "Bobbi, please."

"Stop!" She told the guard once the voice, so familiar, hit a raw nerve inside of her. She'd know that voice anywhere, despite the huge gap of time since she'd last spoken to. . . "Harm?"

He nodded, then bit his lower lip, hoping to convey with his false brown eyes, what he didn't want to say. "I need to speak with you, Senator. . .It's urgent."

Bobbi waved her guard off. "Martin, it's alright. . .He's an old friend."

"Yes, ma'am." Perplexed, but knowing she wasn't the type of person he wanted to argue with, Martin shut the door and turned towards the black BMW where the three other members of his team sat waiting.

Straightening himself up as best he could, Harm took a deep breath and sank into the limousine seat. He was exhausted. The lack of sleep, plus the amount of time that they'd spent detailing his get up was taking a toll on him. He felt her hand press against his face, her fingers curling around the mustache which she made to take off. Quickly, he stopped her hands, pulling them away. "It's me, I swear it."

"Just what kind of trouble are you in, Rabb?" She was quickly putting two and two together. Harm was never a man to hide away from things. This definitely had to be a whopper. "I assume it's not Navy related, you're a reservist now, right? You can't piss off that many people with that much limited time."

"It's not _that_ limited." He defended vehemently, then shook his head. "Look, I'm not here to fight. . .I know you and I, we've had problems in the past. . .But, this isn't about me, it's about Mac."

Ah, now that surprised the hell out of her and then some. Bobbi would be lying if she didn't feel a pang of jealousy over the Marine. "Mac? As in Colonel Sarah MacKenzie?"

"One in the same."

"Hmmm. . .After so many years you two are still friends?"

Harm smiled, despite all that was happening, he had to count his blessings – if anything, at least he got to figure things out with Mac. "It's a long story, but we're a little more than that." And he didn't mind saying it, there was nothing to hide anymore. Why the hell was he hiding away in the past, anyway? All it did was leave him heartbroken and lonely.

"Always knew you loved her. . .Men think they can hide their feelings, but what I saw in your eyes that night we had dinner at your place. . ." She trailed off with a mild chuckle. Very few things eluded her and despite Harm's nonchalant attitude towards Mac's sudden visit, there was something in his eyes that she tried to put a finger on.

Snorting, his arms came across his chest defensively. "Bobbi, let's get back on track?"

The look that she pinned him with clearly stated that he'd overstepped a boundary. And he had. They weren't friends anymore and after the times he and Mac had attacked her cases against what she considered to be 'military misjudgments', Bobbi wasn't willing to bend. "Captain Rabb, I do hope that you know who you are talking to."

"I know who I'm talking to. A woman who was a friend once. A person that, like Colonel MacKenzie and I, wants to seek the truth and bring justice on those who threaten our way of life. . . At least, that is the person I was hoping to speak with." To Harm, Bobbi never was a bad person, not at all. Though, politics had a way of skewing everyone's original opinion about things. All in all, Bobbi was different, someone who believed she could make big changes. From time to time those changes did more bad than good, but it was her intent that he admired. She'd always been a person for the people and only infrequently bended against her beliefs to support whatever Congress was trying to feed her. This was the reason he'd never be able to run for office – the game. And it was a game almost like charades. Play for one team, but give secrets to another. Harm just never had the stomach for it.

Despite herself, Bobbi wasn't the type to hold a grudge forever. Yes, he'd brought down an iron fist against a few angles that she was trying to take, Mac as well, but they were protecting their own. That wasn't something to take lightly. Plus, they were two incredibly intelligent officers, both at the top of their classes and she had to give merit where merit was due. "If it's a friend you need, then I am here. . .But, would you mind terribly if I asked you to quickly bring me up to speed?"

But, how? Where do you start a conversation that sounded more like a plot for a soap opera than the dealings of real life? Not to mention, after all these years, was Bobbi the person he needed to trust? With a heavy sigh, Harm found himself back against the wall. Maybe this would do more damage than good, but it was all that they had. "How well do you know SECNAV Hewitt?"

Bobbi shrugged, though the woman certainly wasn't her favorite person in the world, they often shared similar views on the roles of women in the military. Not to mention, back in DC, they were part of a bridge game that happened once a month with only female members of Congress. "We're not joined at the hip, but I know her well enough." Actually, in the recent months, due to a little snafu, Bobbi knew a little more than just enough. Certain tactics, while not carried out by Hewitt herself, had been implemented by some on her staff.

"Then I can guarantee you'll be surprised at what I have to tell you." With Gunny at the helm, it guaranteed that there would be no unexpected stops and that no one would interrupt. It allowed Harm to go into great lengths and details about Hewitt and Vukovic. Details that left the normally cool and collected Senator with her mouth open and mind whirling at a million thoughts an hour. "I know you could probably care less about Mac and I, about our relationship, but you _do_ care what happens to the people of this country. . .And if Hewitt made President, I can't think of anything more frightening." He finished off, taking a deep breath as he brought his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Never one for drinking during working hours, Bobbi decided to ignore that little fact as she slid towards the tiny bar and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. She raised the bottle as an offering to Harm who nodded back in agreement. "This isn't common knowledge, but I was supposed to be selected as SECNAV."

Talk about things coming out of left field. "You? SECNAV?. . .But, you oppose, quite vehemently I might add, nearly everything having to do with the Marine Corps and the Navy. . .Thank you." He took the proffered glass of bourbon, feeling the liquid burn his throat as he swallowed. "Pardon me if I'm a bit perturbed."

"I tend to take a hard line on the military in general. It's not _just_ the Navy. If there's any branch that needs saving, it's the military."

"One could argue that the political branch already has one foot in Hell." He said with a grin, shrugging when she pierced him with another gaze. "Hewitt is a living proof of that."

Waving him off, Bobbi finished preparing her drink, then slipped into the seat across from him. "Here's the thing. . .Politics, in general, is skewed severely and it's too late to change it. And there are many reasons for it. Legislature is extremely antiquated, dating back to an age where not even a tenth of their social problems could equate with the ones that we have now. So yes, we've had to deviate and play with the boundaries. . .Sometimes cross the boundaries all together." Taking a sip, she savored the liquid, glancing at the glass at her hands as if it held the perfect discourse for their conversation. "But, there's always a loophole and the US Military holds that loophole and they don't even know it. . .See, the military _can_ be changed. It _can_ be modernized. Hell, it has been already. . .In 2012 the new submarines will come equipped with birthing compartments and the sailors will learn to adapt to having women onboard. If Mac makes JAG, the president that it will set can not be put into words.. .The problem is the people on the top of the pyramid. . .The ones who have been military _men_ for so long, they don't want the change." She said, putting heavy emphasis on the word 'men.' That had been her problem all along, a reason why, in the past, people like Mac had been used. Hell, she'd even sent MacKenzie on a submarine once, just to prove a point. "So, they kick and scream and act like pussies until they get what they want. . .Not everyone appreciates bullies. So, with the new agendas going into place and the alarming rates of harassment charges filed by females. . .It's no wonder that a job like the SECNAV's needed a _light_ touch."

He understood all of that. In fact, on many points Harm agreed. "You don't have to tell me that some women are better at this _soldier_ stuff than men are. . .I've served with enough women to know that they can do the job. . .It's the ones that can't which bring a lot of flack on the others." What he didn't quite understand was why they would let someone like Hewitt take that spot over Latham. "Why aren't you sitting in that chair? How the hell did that bitch get picked over you?"

Bitterly, she chuckled, the thoughts of a less than adequate opponent getting something she wanted settled in once again. "Apparently I wasn't right for the job. They wanted a woman who could be prompted to do anything that they wanted. . ._Anything._ We both know that I don't operate that way. . .I came on a bit too strong for their taste so they stuck with what they considered to be the lesser of two evils." She shrugged, "Hewitt is more of a push over."

If there was anything that Hewitt was, she definitely wasn't a push over. And there was that word again 'they.' Though Harm had a vague idea who she was referring to, the term was still rather generic. "_They_ who?"

"Congress, Legislature, the Government. . .Who the hell knows? In this job, Harm, you can't really do much without someone watching your every move. Every 'i' has to be dotted, the 't's have to be crossed and someone always double checks the work. . .If they don't like it, then it gets tossed out or filed away. If you keep handing in something that they don't like, eventually, you will get passed over and never savor the good stuff." But this wasn't just a pass up, this was an agenda of sorts. It wasn't surprising if Hewitt had something on someone big. "If you ask me, it was President Garver. . .He and I never saw eye to eye."

Harm snorted. "You haven't seen eye to eye with _anyone_ in the White House, if I remember correctly."

She chose to ignore that comment, there were more pressing issues. "It's a shame though, that neither of us would have slid into that office fair and square."

"Meaning?"

"Does the name Karla Winters ring a bell?"

"Vaguely. . . Ensign which claimed that. . ."

"Enlisted, Harm. . .She was enlisted. . .An enlisted woman who accused two senior officers and one flag officer of assault and harassment."

"Yes, I remember. The prosecution was trying to turn it into a rape case. . .They did win and all three officers, last I heard, were spending time in Leavenworth. . The Navy had a helluva time trying to clean up the bad press."

"And a year later Hewitt was in the hot seat, wasn't she?"

The implications were hitting him full force. Christ, she couldn't be assuming that this was all a rouse? "What exactly are you getting at?"

"The case was a fake. . .a sham. . ." Bobbi sighed, knowing full well she would have had the job had she not objected against tarnishing the names of three good officers. As much as she wanted the power, she didn't want it when it came in the type of a package that was not-so-neatly wrapped up in. "They never assaulted her. Winters was paid a lot of money to lie about it. . .She had her boyfriend, Kevin, and a couple of his friends beat her up."

"And how do you know all of this?"

"Winters' boyfriend came forward. .He was silenced before it was ever leaked to the media along with the reporter that he spoke to. . .Part of taking the job was making sure us candidates kept our mouths shut, but the miniscule amount of conscience that I have left wouldn't let me do that."

"Silenced, by who?" Bobbi stared at him with a look that clearly said 'do you really have to ask?' "Hewitt?"

Bobbi nodded, then sighed deeply. "That's what I assume since her name came up in the interview that Kevin had given. . .The only reason I knew is because the reporter and I often crossed paths. . .For a small fee, he would help out."

"Why didn't you go to someone?"

"I did. And the accusations did nothing but damage anything I was trying to get passed in congress. . .So, I backed off entirely. Losing my job just didn't seem worth the effort. Besides, I figured, if anything, I would keep it to myself until a reason to use it came around."

"Well, I'm giving you a reason, Bobbi. . .There's still a chance you'll get the job if she crashes and burns, right?"

If there was one thing that Bobbi Latham couldn't resist, it was a chance to bump someone out of their high chair. "Alright, I'll help you."

2120 Local  
Mac's House  
San Diego, California

Mac was sitting Indian-style on her bed with a folder open in front of her and a fudgesicle in her hand. She wasn't in the mood for a real meal, so she'd sought the comfort of something chocolate and cool. Nearly every night, part of the ritual had been the same since Harm's disappearance and Vic's investigation. She would sit in a quiet space, re-reading every detail pertaining to the interviews in the Arjan suicide. It was a gut feeling that told her Vic was certainly involved in Harm's mishap and by extension, the driving force that prompted Airman Arjan to jump ship. But, proving those accusations with nothing more than reasonable doubt was going to be a bitch. There was really no evidence aside from the letter Arjan had written to his girlfriend and still, that was inconclusive. Taken out of context, the young plane Captain could have been referring to anything really.

True, she had won cases on reasonable doubt before where information was so scarce all she had were assumptions. Still, this was a horse of a different color. In the past, the amount of cases in which those in government offices held an interest, were quite slim. She counted, maybe, a dozen or so cases that were so important messing up meant it was a career breaker. A dozen out of thousands of cases. What was sad, really, was that Mac didn't care about the potential backlash this would have on her career if and when all of Hewitt's secrets came out. No, what she truly cared about was the love of her life, a man who was somehow shoved into all of this because of her.

Sighing, she took a bite off the top of the fudgesicle, then settled into her headboard, dismissing the case for the moment. The case was one thing, but willingly entertaining Vic was another thing all together. Harm had fervidly disapproved her 'dating' the man. And while she was on the same wave length and then some, Mac found no other way to possibly dig up dirt, or, at the very least, bring his guard down. A man as unstable as Vukovic eventually cracked, one way or another.

A startling ring to a particular cellphone made her jump slightly. "Shit." Mac said, shoving the fudgesicle into her mouth as one hand went for the phone and the other searched for a napkin. "Herrr."

(Harm removed the phone from his ear, glancing at it as if it were a foreign object. "Uh. . .Mac?")

"Yers, 'ang on." With the fudgesicle still in her mouth, it was kind of difficult to speak. Instead, she pulled the shirt off of her, tossing it across the room where it landed on top of the hamper. Triumphantly she giggled, then took the fudgesicle with her now empty hand. "Mmm, sorry. I'm eating a fudgesicle and the phone scared the crap out of me. . .Wound up getting chocolate all over my shirt."

(Despite himself, Harm couldn't help but chuckle. "Hmmm. . .Wish I was there to share that fudgesicle with you, Mac." His voice dropped a few octaves into that seductive timbre that never failed to make her sweat.)

"Weeeell, I am sitting around now in just a bra and panties. ..I didn't like having chocolate all over me so I tossed the shirt." His frustrated groan made her giggle again. "I am telling the truth."

("And killing me in the process." He sighed, trying to will his body back into control. "So, how are you?")

"Missing you." She confessed with a frown, then licked off some of the ice cream that was melting. "Since you moved in I started seeing this place as _ours_ not just _mine._ When you're not around it's lonely around these parts. . .I just want you home with me." _Wow,_ she thought, _I'd have never had the guts to say that before._ And she found that she liked it, a lot. This new form of self expression was a welcome addition to all that made up Sarah MacKenzie.

("God, Mac. When you talk like that, it makes me want to drop everything." He considered his current location. A hotel no more than a five minute drive away. "I'm close by. I mean, I could. . .")

"No." She stopped him, though there was nothing more that Mac wanted than for him to be at her side at that moment. "Let's change subjects before we drive each other nuts." Although she didn't want to. "What happened today?"

("Lots actually. . .So much that I don't think I have enough charge on the battery to explain." He considered everything that Bobbi had told him. It had been a hell of a lot to take in, so he just stuck to specifics. "To make a long story short, Bobbi was also up for the SECNAV's chair, along with a few other women in politics. She has some dirty little secret on Hewitt and wouldn't mind using it in order to bring her down and slip into that chair herself.")

Mac couldn't help but cringe, though Bobbi was generally one of those 'for the good of the people' types, there had been many times where they'd butted heads. Bringing her even closer to the Navy wasn't sitting particularly well. "Bobbi Latham as SECNAV. Is that a good thing?"

("I guess it depends on who you ask. . .Personally, I think she's the lesser of two evils. . .Hey, if you're worried about working with her, you can handle yourself, Mac. I've seen you do it. The Osprey investigation was just one huge example.")

"You're just being biased, sailor." Mac said with a sigh, then added, "Besides, I had a little help by a certain Squid Aviator turned Squid Lawyer turned Squid PI, I know."

("Yeah, yeah, yeah. . .That squid would be nothing without a certain, charming Marine as his partner." God he missed her. Was it even possible to miss someone _this_ much if they were only a few miles away? "Listen, as much as it pains me, I think we need to keep the phone calls to a minimum. . .You know how to use all of the devices I have in our office. . .Keep them on you at _all times_ and just charge them when you are home.")

Yes, Mac knew about the devices which she had gotten a crash course on before an investigation she'd helped him out in. They were rather nifty, especially the small microphone/camera combo that was hidden inside a button of her Marine green jacket. With just a twist of the button, the image would, immediately, zoom in. "Already doing that, boss. . .I also checked the house when I walked in. . .Oh, and you never gave me an answer on sticking something on Vukovic."

("Mac, it's risky. . .If he finds it. .. Not to mention, Hewitt's goons check everyone, it will beep.")

"Okay, if not on him, what about in _his_ house?" That was one place she really didn't want to venture into, but if it helped, it would do more good than harm. She took another lick of the ice cream.

(Harm's deep sigh signified the surmounting frustration they both were feeling. "I really would sleep better at night knowing you're no where near his place.")

"Awww, Harm. You don't have to be jealous. I'll promise to behave." She teased.

("Cute, Marine. . .Cute." He knew that her being alone in Vic's domain was a bad idea. Predators like Vukovic felt more comfortable in _their_ territory. If he decided to snap, Mac wouldn't have a chance. No Marine, Leatherneck Square techniques could save her. And still, he knew that saying 'no' would be a blow to her ego, something that he needed her to keep intact. "Fine, if you get the chance, stick the mini cam somewhere. . .Just, please, please, please, be careful. We don't know what he's really capable of.")

"You know I will." The conversation was drawing to a close, though Mac wanted nothing more than to keep Harm on the line, to hear his voice.

("Oh, and Mac? Can you make sure we're stocked up on those fudgesicles?" He couldn't hold back the huskiness of his voice if he tried.)

"Uh, sure. . .Why? Are you PMSing and in need of chocolate?" She chuckled. Though both she and Harm had a love for ice cream, her affection with the cool, sticky treat was just greater. Men would never understand the needs that women had for comfort foods, specifically ice cream.

(Harm's grin was down right sexy, too bad she couldn't see it. "Nope, I just have a certain mental picture about a really damned sexy, completely naked female Marine and the chocolate ice cream that I am just _dying_ to lick off of her body.")

"Oh, my." Thankfully she'd finished off the ice cream else, she'd definitely be wearing more of it.

("Sweet dreams, beautiful. . .I love you.")

"I love you, too. . .Stay safe, Harm." Taking a shaky sigh, Mac threw her legs over the side of the bed and headed towards the shower. "Sweet dreams? Hell, maybe after a cold shower."


	28. Functio Laesa

Long, action packed, controversial, yup, this part has it all! 2 left!

PS: There's a certain "scene" that isn't as bad as it seems.

J.

**PART 28 – Functio Laesa**

April 15, 2010  
2001 Local  
Trattoria Acqua  
La Jolla, California

Vic kept his hand at the small of her back as he escorted Mac into the Mediterranean inspired restaurant situated on a hill which overlooked La Jolla Cove. The Maitre 'd had weaved them through the maze of tables, finally stepping to the terrace and towards a table that was barely big enough for two. Mac bit back the urge to grab Vukovic's hand, snap it off and then use it to slap him. They had been 'dating' (An idea that made her utterly sick) for about a week and a half. Well, as much as one could date a person under your chain of command which you were trying to stay away from. Yes, it was working out quite well save for the times that he'd tried to kiss her and she had to resist beating him to a pulp.

She hadn't ever allowed anything past a kiss to her cheek and, even so, the moment she got home, Mac would slip into the shower and take a long, luxurious bath with the aid of an exfoliating loofah. The last thing she wanted was to have any scent of Vic lingering on her person. "This is lovely, thank you." She said to Vic, plastering on a fake smile. She swore, after all of this smiling, that her face would stay that way.

Glancing around, she felt a familiar ache in her chest at the familiarity of such a quaint restaurant. She and Harm had gone once on a double date with his parents which wound up being a rather pleasant experience. Back then, Frank had finagled his way into getting a table with the most breathtaking view. They'd shared a pleasant and humorous conversation and, yet again, Mac felt like she was right at home. She'd finally found the family she longed for. "Mac?"

Glancing up, she found Harm sitting across from her, that charming smile on his lips, his hand holding her own. "Hi. . .I've mis. . ." She barely had a chance to speak before the image morphed from Harm to one Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic. "I've never come here before, thank you." She countered, her hand slipping slowly out of his own as she reached into her purse, taking out a small mirror which she used to check her make up.

"You look wonderful, Mac." Mac. It was always Mac. Though, on three occasions he'd tried to call her Sarah, but she'd objected, something about the name bringing back bad memories. So, playing the boy scout, he'd acquiesced and chose to concentrate on the things she would allow. Kissing wasn't one of them, but he was planning on changing that tonight. The case was only a week away now, circumstances had brought it up and if he was going to survive, he needed the prosecution on his side. "You don't have to be nervous, I doubt sincerely that anyone here knows us." He said gently, knowing full well that out of uniform, it was a little more difficult to figure out who was who. "That's a lovely dress, by the way."

Mac was wearing an old black dress which she'd worn back when she was trying to be a bit more conservative. It was beautiful, yes, but along with the shawl which was draped over her shoulders, it left nearly everything and then some up to the imagination. To his credit, Vukovic _did_ look attractive in a gray suit and yellow shirt, sans-tie. "It's my favorite." She said with a smile, lying straight through her teeth.

"No. Her favorite is this Burgundy dress that leaves slightly less up to the imagination." Harm grinned. Bringing his hand up to his ear, he adjusted the listening device, raising the volume up just a little more. Opting for a change of scenery he'd abandoned the SUV, leaving it parked two blocks down. He was now situated behind a large potted plant overlooking the terrace below, his all black outfit helping him blend in with the shadows.

Spying on Mac and Vic had been the most difficult experience of his life. Pretend or not, it was damned difficult to have the woman you love sneaking around with another. It was even worse that he was allowing it.

Still, it had suited a purpose. Four days earlier she'd ventured into Vic's apartment and managed to hook up a device on his phones and one in the living room. Though the conversations were limited to phone sex (Which Vic seemed to have a little too much of) and the occasional ordering of take out, one or two calls had come from the Madam herself. It seemed, for all of the fake smiles and unrequited innuendos, Vic and Hewitt believed they'd finally had Mac. "Morons." He scoffed, then settled in, smells of wonderful food assaulting his senses. With a sigh he pulled out a power bar, opting for a decent meal once Mac was safe and sound in their home.

With Bobbi's help, his part of the investigation had unearthed a rather tantalizing bit of information that he wasn't quite sure what to do with. The paternity question had never been raised up until the moment Harm realized that it may have been a key reason as to why Hewitt moved through her government positions with such ease. Trying to trace back Hewitt's life, Bobbi had suggested he start with her life as a young adult. There had been many articles pertaining on one Caroline Samantha Sterling – Hewitt's maiden name. School transcripts had shown her to be an honor student and one involved in many community projects. She'd gone to college at Yale.

Yale. That's where he'd found the information which came in the form of the Class of '74 year book. He'd spotted Hewitt almost immediately, her fingers threaded through those of a handsome young man – Rich Garver.

"It can't be." He said to himself, leafing through the pages, searching through the lower and then the upper classmen, coming to a stop on the Junior class and one Richard J. Garver. Next to the picture, there was a comment, one of those typical _What I Want To Be. . ._ Ironically, it said 'President.'

On autopilot, he reached for his cell phone, going through the applications until he found the calculator. He put in the current year, minus Vukovic's age. He already knew the answer, but double checking was always a good idea. It was still a shock to see the year show up – 1974. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but picture after picture of seeing Hewitt with Garver started to make sense. Vic was Garver's son. _President_ Garver's son. Comparing Garver's photo along with the one on Vukovic's service record, he immediately began to see the similarities. They had the same hair color, eye color, chin. It was a miracle no one had seen it before.

Yes, it certainly made sense. Why else would someone with the lack of experience, such as Caroline Hewitt, be allowed to slip into the SECNAV's seat so neatly? Blackmail was the only real viable option. The problem was proving that Vukovic was Garver's son. DNA testing was out of the picture, so for the moment he was still treading water and hoping that Mac's snooping around would lead to something. If anything, he only hoped that her fake dates with Vukovic would bring his guard down, enabling Mac to destroy him on the stand.

Harm pinched the bridge of his nose, then brought the binoculars up to his eyes. These dates between Vic and Mac were starting to take a rather large toll. He wasn't jealous, far from it, and yet it was odd seeing her with another man. His heart just didn't approve. And for God's sake, out of all of the restaurants in town, why this one?

It would be hokey to admit it to anyone, even herself, but Mac _sensed_ Harm's presence. Hiding or not, she knew where he was, exactly where. It was difficult not to turn and glance up towards the terrace just to try and catch a glimpse. The last thing she needed was to put him in danger again, he was already up to his eyeballs because of her. "So, you were saying?" She resumed the conversation with Vic, something about. . .about. _Damn._ Mac wouldn't have a clue what the younger man was on about. Frankly, she didn't care. Every time she looked across from her, the person she saw wasn't Lt. Commander Gregory Vukovic. It was Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. It would always be.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Vic drank down his second scotch since they'd arrived, then sat back casually easing into conversation. He'd been finding that, though the walls were coming down, they were still there. Not that it mattered, he'd already resigned to the fact that Mac was going to be a hard nut to crack. He had the time as long as she put in _some_ effort. But this 'no kissing' rule that she'd put up had to go and fast. He wasn't taking her to expensive restaurants just for the fine cuisine. No, usually when you got all dressed up and took a girl out to a meal that was sure to cost at least one hundred bucks, you expected _something_ in return. He was attractive, could have any woman that he wanted. Yes, apparently chivalry had died on this Sailor. "So, I ended up buying the BMW. . .It fits me better and I can't help but notice how _gooood_ you look sitting in it."

Mac restrained her eyes from rolling. The term _trophy wife_ coming to mind. "Well, I like sitting in it."

"Thanks for letting me drive the 'Vette the other day. . .I have to say. . ." Vic trailed off and leaned in with a mischievous grin. "It turns me on to see you stepping out of it. . .It's sexy."

Sometimes, she wished that certain bodily functions could happen at will, like blushing. As it was she was trying to keep another bodily function – puking – under control. What was it that Sturgis had called him? Ah, yes, 'Vicpuke.' It fit, really. "I'd be lying if I said that the reason I bought it wasn't to attract attention from handsome men." She lied. The only reason Mac had purchased the Vette was Harm. No, it wasn't to spite him because his precious vintage had been stolen. She wasn't that petty. Was it that silly to buy something that you know someone else would love? Maybe it had been a way for her to attract him, consciously she refused to believe that. Subconsciously. . .that was a different story.

Vic's hand cupped her cheek, an action that nearly had him flat on his back had Mac reacted like she really wanted. Instead, she tried the smitten female approach and hoped that he didn't see the lie in her eyes. "How about a walk along the beach later?"

Feigning affection, Mac placed her hand over his, closing her eyes as she leaned into his touch. "Actually, I can't. . .I have a meeting in the morning and then later at night, I promised Harriet I'd take care of the kids while she and Bud went shopping." Another lie, but a good one. There was always safety in numbers and the number four – as in the Roberts' four – wasn't a numeric that Vic was fond of.

"Oh." To say that he hated the Roberts' kids was an understatement. Besides the fact that their oldest was always correcting one thing or another, the other kids were a menace. Jimmy, during a visit to the office, had run off with important documents and, as a result, got him in trouble with Mac. Not that he could say much or place the blame where it was due. The fact that they were Mac's godchildren meant that they could each get away with murder. Hell, if it were his kids, he'd have them all in boarding school. "Some other time?"

"I'd love that, yes." Thankfully, dinner had arrived shortly after and conversation had been drowned out by a violinist that was playing in the terrace. Another blessing came in the form of the music which was hardly fit for dancing. She wasn't too sure she could stand being THAT up close and personal with Vicpuke.

When the evening began to wind down, Harm chose an opportune moment to slip out of his perch and head out to his vehicle. He was still in disguise as he passed Mac who was sitting alone while Vic went to the head. Though he told himself not to look, he couldn't help it, their eyes met and a spark of recognition formulated in her eyes. Mac hadn't seen his get up and despite the brown contacts, she knew him a mile away. It was almost painful to see him casually walk on by without a word in passing. There was nothing but that look which had calmed her, somewhat. It was good to know that he was watching her six. "You alright?"

Staring up, she found Vukovic staring at her with mild trepidation. "I'm fine. . .I just haven't been feeling too good. The kids were sick and I think they gave whatever bug they had to Bud and Harriet who passed it to me."

_Who undoubtedly gave it to me as well. _Vic bit back a cringe. Ever since his teenage years, he'd inherited a rather odd phobia to illness. Yes, everyone hated being sick, but even the slightest cold was total torture. "Well, let's get going. . .It's getting late. . .Wouldn't want you to turn into a pumpkin on me."

Mac giggled as best she could and then, once again, struggled with relaxing once his hand pressed against the small of her back and then a little lower. _Breathe, Mac. Breathe._

During the drive home, she had tried to keep Harm in the mirror but exceptional driving had him back so far she'd only caught him when he turned. Vukovic, who was badly singing along to a Lionel Richie CD he had in the car, seemed oblivious to anything but her. "Hello, is it me you're looking for."

"Always loved that song." Loved being the operative word. The moment she got home, that CD was going into the garbage.

When they arrived, she expected him to try and kiss her. He'd tried every other time, today wouldn't be different. What she hadn't expected was for Vic to virtually jump out of the car and run around to help her out. He'd never been the chivalrous when he'd deposited her back home. Tonight, there was a spring in his step and this sickening, almost perverted smile. "M'lady." He offered her the crook of his arm and escorted her up the steps, stepping closer to Mac as she fished around her purse for the keys. "I really had a nice time tonight." And again, before she had a chance to move from his grasp, Vic's hands came to either side of her face. Before she could react, she felt his lips on hers in a sloppy, wet kiss that was neither passionate nor romantic. For his part, Vic could feel a spark there, an awakening within him of what it was like to _finally_ taste Sarah MacKenzie. When they broke apart the fire in her eyes wasn't the passion that he felt, rather the hatred that burned so fierce for him it was consuming.

Finding her voice, Mac slowly trailed her hands up his arms and then placed them right on his chest, her fingers tracing arbitrary outlines over his shirt. "I really hope you aren't doing this just for your case."

"Would it bother you if I am?"

"Immensely." She whispered, pretending to be heartbroken at the thought of him using her. "I know this is a bit forward, it's definitely not like me. . .but, would you like to go out on Saturday?"

"As a date or. . .?" They'd never gone on 'dates.' It was always specified that these were 'working dinners' in the off chance they'd get caught. Whether Vic liked it or not, at the moment he was still Navy and fraternization was an issue, though he was temporarily suspended pending the outcome of his case. He really didn't give a damn about their careers, once they married he would inherit a rather large sum of cash, enough for the two of them to live cozily for years to come.

"We can't officially call it a date if you're _still _under my chain of command, Vic. . .For all intents and purposes, it's still a working dinner." She winked at him.

There was an idea he'd been toying with but wasn't sure how to ask of Mac. Now, after the 'passionate' kiss they shared, he didn't find a reason not to ask. "I have an idea, just, don't say 'no' before thinking about it. . .I was thinking that on Saturday we should head up to San Luis Obispo. . .There's an excellent restaurant there and this charming hotel and. . .well, actually it's an inn. . .and"

"Vic. Don't you think that's presuming a bit too much?" Mac stated with a grin. The word 'hotel' had warning bells going off in all sorts of directions.

Alright, so he was presuming a little. But, after hearing about her exploits with Colonel Farrow, Vic felt he knew just where Mac's integrity was. Besides, didn't she and Rabb have a long standing affair in the office? Scuttlebutt said that she was even involved with an Australian sailor once. Where was the presumption? It was normal, after dating for some time, to become acquainted in a _different_ manner. "Separate rooms." He quickly offered, saving himself the embarrassment.

Mac very much doubted that the rooms would stay separate. "Isn't Obispo a bit _far_?" It was, but her main reason for asking wasn't the distance, but rather the effect it would have on Harm following. Yes, she would admit it, something made her _scared_ of Vic and his advances. Especially if she was alone.

"Well, it's far and _neutral_. . .It's not my place or yours, and it's far from JLSS." His grin spread wider as the implication finally set it. It wasn't just _far_, it was just long gone from anything that held her back. The farther he got Mac away from San Diego, the easier he could manipulate her. "C'mon, a little road trip would be fun."

Damnit, how Mac wished she hadn't thought this idea up. It had to have been the most ridiculously planned one. She could only imagine Harm yelling inside of his SUV for her not to accept. . .but. "Sure, but let's leave early in the morning, it's still quite a drive."

"It's a deal. . .I'll work something out tomorrow." He leaned in to kiss her again, this time, winding up kissing only her cheek as Mac had turned her head to counter. "Night."

"Night." She pushed the door open, hoping to horridly duck inside when his hand wrapped around her arm.

Vic glanced at her hungrily, his urge to push her straight through the door and take her against the nearest wall keeping his blood simmering. Instead, he retorted with something that he'd always wanted to tell her. "I love you."

_Oh no. _Mac thought, her voice catching in her throat. How many times in the past had she begged God to have Harm utter those words? And now, Vic was using them and all Mac wanted was to slap that lovesick expression off of his face. Was this the way he'd treated Mayfield or the others? How far did his love go before he snapped and just took what he wanted? Yes, she was a Marine and a strong woman, but stronger women had been succumbed. All she needed was one moment of distraction for him to. . . God, she couldn't bare the thought of what he would do to her. Of what it would do to Harm and their relationship. "Thank you." Leaning forward, she gave him a quick peck on the lips and then, literally closed the door in his face.

"Night." He said to the closed door, waiting until he heard the door lock. "Soon Vic. . .you'll have her soon."

Outside, hiding behind a bush that lined the right side out of home, Harm stood binoculars in hand, waiting for Vukovic to leave. "What the fuck is he thinking?" He said under his breath as he tried to come to terms with the sudden jealousy he was feeling. It wasn't because Vic had kissed Mac, no, for that he just wanted to pummel the man. The jealousy was for all of the years he'd spent guarding his feelings for Mac. Why was it so easy for Vic just to say those words? Meaningful or not, it hurt him. He just hoped it wasn't hurting Mac. Sighing, he glanced upwards. Everything told him that he shouldn't be there, that the last thing he needed was to get caught by the cops or anyone else. Still, he couldn't help himself. It was just too hard staying away.

Rounding the house, he went towards the back ducking alongside the raised deck and then coming to the drain pipe against the wall, just outside the window to the office. "Here goes nothing." He slipped the binoculars into a backpack, tightened it around him and set up the pipe without much thought of it breaking or its ability to hold his weight. Half way up, he was able to reach for the slanted area of the roof and pull himself over to hold the outside sill of the window. With one hand he tried to pry the window open, but it didn't budge. "Oh shit."

Inside their room, Mac stood in just a bra and panties, thoughts of burning the black dress and every other outfit in the pile coming into deep consideration. Those had been all of the clothing worn on her 'dates' with Vic. Each one of them recalled a bad memory, usually a touch that was inappropriate for someone of his rank to give someone of hers. Stepping into the bathroom, she took her robe and wrapped it tightly around her slim figure. Using a bar of facial soap, she scrubbed her face of make up and the feel of Vic's lips on hers. Warm water washed the feeling away, but the memories were still there in crystal clear color. "Oh God, what am I doing?" She gripped the edges of the basin, her knuckles whitening as her grip tightened. "Harm, I'm so sorry. . ."

"Mac?" Oh God, she was losing her mind if she was hearing him _inside_ the house. "Mac, I need help." Okay, so maybe that sounded real, it certainly wasn't a figment of her imagination. Walking past the office, she saw him through the window, his face contorted in an odd expression. "Hey, can you help me? I'm ah. . .slipping." He'd managed to get the window open, but in the process lost a foot hold. Trying not to panic was not an option as he felt his body skid slightly.

Mac raced across the room, taking both his hands which were gripping onto the window sill "Are you crazy?" Leaning back, she used both her strength and bodyweight to drag him in. Groaning, she pulled as hard as possible, enough for Harm to push himself inside. He fell onto the floor with a thud, then glanced up to find Mac kneeling by his side. Her hand caressed his face. "Are you crazy?"

"Do I really need to answer that?" He sat up slowly with Mac's help and then wrapped his arms around her, crushing her body to his. "God, I've missed you."

"This is crazy. . .you're crazy." Despite the craziness, she was holding onto him. Harm was her anchor, always had been. Instantly the strength that had been zapped away due to Vic's courting methods came back to her.

"I know, Mac. Believe me, I know. I just can't stay away. Not with what he told you tonight." He slipped out of their embrace then placed his hands on her face, his thumbs brushing off tears that had rolled down her cheeks. "Oh, Mac. . .I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out my feelings for you. I should have told you that I loved you years ago."

"Harm, this isn't your fault. . .I could have told _you_ and it was too late when I did."

"It didn't help that I just drove away. . .For that, I am sorry." Harm stood up and brought her with him. "I guess I'd better get going."

Mac's hands wrapped around his arms stopped him from moving. "No. . .I want you to stay."

Dear God, there wasn't anything that he wanted more. This was _their_ home, it was where he was supposed to be and not in some hotel missing a woman that was just a few miles away. "That might not be a good idea."

"I don't care. . .I just. . .I just want to hold you and pretend that I don't have to go out with _him_ tomorrow. I just want everything to be normal again." She tried to tug him out of the office, but his body stood still. "Harm?" She watched intently as he dug around the backpack and produced a pair of women's boots.

"I brought you something." He handed them to her upside down so that the heel faced the ceiling. "They have a tracking device in the heel. A GPS. It's a back up, just in case. . . I won't be far away Mac, but I do need to make sure Vic doesn't know we'll be tailing."

"We?"

Harm nodded. "Well, Gunny's aboard for just about anything. I'll get Sturgis on the horn, too. . .Three different cars. It'll be easier to watch you that way. . .I'm not taking any chances, Mac. Certainly not when it comes to you."

"I love you." She said simply, her arms wrapping around his body.

"I love you too, Mac."

April 17, 2010  
2012 Local  
Madonna Inn  
San Luis Obispo, California

Though they'd arrived at the inn hours earlier, Mac still couldn't get over the odd beauty of the place. She'd heard about it, of course, it had long become a piece of touristic Americana. But the pictures and TV shows hadn't done the place an ounce of justice. Sitting inside the Gold Rush Steak House, she glanced around at the bright, reddish, pink, circular tables similar to the one she and Vic were sharing. A bottle of non-alcoholic wine sat in the middle and she was thankful that her dinner partner had a call to attend to. "Harm, if you can hear me, Vic stepped out. . .Please be careful, Flyboy."

"Thanks, Mac." He said to no one in particular. She couldn't hear him, as was her specifications when it came to the mission. The last thing she'd needed was his in adverted comments skewing with her thoughts. "Alright guys, let's just stay in one car for now. . .I don't think they're going anywhere tonight." He'd been with her for the whole ride, heard the whole conversation as Vic had tried to weasel his way into her bedroom. His Marine had put her foot down in a charming matter, stating that she would give him what he wants when she was ready. That she was still healing over 'losing Harm.'

The tracking device Harm had implanted inside the heel of her boot was working like a charm. Mike Benson's nephew, a technological wiz kid, had done an excellent job in creating a device small enough to be concealed. The system sent all of the monitoring information to a special program on his lap top. With the use of an air card, he was online and mobile. The bonus was the safety of the device and its inability to be discovered without the use of a metal detector.

He unlocked the SUV doors for Gunny and Sturgis to get in and then settled back. "Mike called me. I am sure it won't be able to be used, but he found a 'to do' list of sorts."

"Is 'Kill Harm' at the top?" He joked, only to be given a serious look from Gunny. "You're kidding me?"

Gunny shook his head. "It's not quite 'Kill Harm' but the implication is there. He calls you 'The Captain.' And mentions the F-14."

Inside, Mac smiled up at her dinner companion and slipped a hand into his. Too bad she couldn't burn her hand off. "Took a while."

Vic shrugged. "I might not be in the Navy anymore after the case, Mac. .. need to find another way to build my nest egg." He stated cryptically, then raised her hand up and kissed the back of it. "How about we head out of here for a while? I hear the town is beautiful at night."

"Sure thing." Minutes later, they slipped into Vic's BMW and headed out towards the town. The city was very charming, so different from the hustle of LA and San Diego. Once again, Mac couldn't help but think about Harm and how much she'd love to share this with him. Passing Old Mission Plaza, she could see the remnants of the pavement squares which were painted by local artists in support of businesses and organizations. On the way towards City Hall, a beautiful lighted obelisk caught her eye. "Wow, incredible."

"Nice here, isn't it?" Almost immediately, the magic the city was having on Mac disappeared. His voice was like a jackhammer, destroying anything of interest.

Eight blocks back, Harm was stopped at a traffic light, his breathing becoming erratic the moment Vic turned right and disappeared. "Damnit, we should have brought the other cars!" He yelled his frustrations, slamming his fist into the steering wheel.

"Buddy, calm down, the GPS is working like a charm." Sturgis pointed at the computer screen and the detailed descriptions of the streets along with a moving green dot that signified where Mac was located. "They aren't that far away."

Sighing deeply, Harm shook his head. "I can't lose her Sturgis."

"You keep saying that." Gunny pointed out. "You aren't going to lose her. . .Light's green." He nudged Harm slightly, hoping to get him moving again.

"Look, I can't help but feel apprehensive. . .I have this gut feeling that something is going to. . ." The second he pressed on the accelerator he heard a loud, screeching sound towards his left. An impact was the last thing any of them expected, but it did come when a moving van slammed into the left side of the SUV. The force was enough to crush the front of the vehicle, killing the engine instantaneously.

Harm's head had shattered the side window, knocking him out momentarily. When he came to, he felt a hand wrapped around his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Oh, damnit." The cut on the side of his head, just above his left eyebrow, hurt like hell. "You two alright?" Propping one eye open he found Sturgis rubbing circles on his temples. Gunny was already out of the vehicle. "Guess that's a 'yes.'"

A mile and a half away, Mac took a proffered rose which Vic had purchased off of a street vendor. "A rose for a rose."

"Thank you." She took the flower, reminding herself to toss it out once they arrived back at the Inn. Which reminded her, "Vic, can we go back. I'm tired and I don't think that Sirloin agreed with me. . .I'm not feeling too hot."

Turning to glance out of his window, Vic was able to conceal the malicious smirk. "Not a problem." He gave in, knowing full well that the cause of her ill feelings wasn't the Sirloin, but the little pill which he'd paid the waiter to slip into her glass of non alcoholic wine. "I'm getting sleepy myself." But it was now, only ten in the evening and after driving hundred of miles, she was going to put out, one way or another. At this point, he didn't even care if she was conscious or not.

The ambulance had arrived relatively quickly and Harm sat in the back of it, getting his cut tended to. "Alright, Mr. Rabb, I want you to look into the light." The paramedic had him follow the light in all varying ways, his head spinning slightly which its brightness shone into his blue orbs. "You don't seem to have a concussion."

Harm snorted. "That's a first. . .I've had a few."

"Then it would be a good idea to get you to the hospital on the double." The second paramedic, a female trainee who paled at the sight of blood, suggested.

"No can do, but thanks." He jumped off of the back bumper and walked towards Gunny who had been trying to get the laptop working. "Anything?"

Gunny shook his head. "The GPS died with the crash." He motioned towards the piece in Harm's ear. "Anything?"

"No. Nothing." In the pit of his stomach he felt something was wrong, but they'd all insisted that he get medical help. It was rational, of course, and he was grateful that his friends were there, but now, more than ever, he needed to get to Mac. "We have to go. NOW. . .I can't explain it, but we just do."

Sturgis frowned. If anything, he knew of Harm and Mac's 'connection' better than most. He'd seen Mac at work and Harm's own belief that she'd saved him was enough to make him believe in 'hokum.' "I hear you, buddy, but the SUV's dead."

Walking to the SUV he slipped inside, took out a briefcase and opened it. Inside the molded foam held in place three additional ear pieces like the ones he was wearing. "Mac's on channel three. . .Try to get this shit working. . .I'm going after her." Running across the street, he stepped onto a parking lot and slid into the front seat of a taxi cab. "Madonna's Inn and there's an extra two hundred in there for you if you can get us there quickly."

Mac's head was spinning. For that matter, so was the Madonna Inn. Her arm was draped over Vic's neck as her body leaned heavily against him and the door frame to _his_ room. To his credit, she had remembered him getting two rooms, though she'd fought Vic when he'd tried to slip into her room earlier. While she hadn't seen the inside of his room, this themed hotel definitely signified that his was as exaggeratedly decorated as her own. "Almost done. . .there!" Vic said triumphantly when the door swung open.

Misty Rock, room number 191, was a contrast between a country cabin and a night inside a cave. Rocks decorated the walls along with rustic furniture offset by a white, floral comforter over the bed. "Vic, thanks. . .But, I'll be fine." She was going to be fine, come hell or high water. This was probably just indigestion. She would throw up, get rid of this icky feeling and then crash into bed after taking some Alka-Seltzer which she always carried in her overnight bag. "Just get me to my room."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

Frustrated, Harm drummed his fingers on the dash board of the cab. Somehow they'd managed to get every single red light in San Luis Obispo as well as every single idiot driver from hell. "Damnit." Pulling out the listening device he shook it, then banged his palm against the back. Magically, it came to life. "Yes!" He could barely make out Vic's voice, but he heard Mac's clearly._"Vukovic. . .No!"_

His breath caught in his throat momentarily. Why had she said that? What had happened? _"It's alright, Sarah. . .Just hold still while I get this off of you."_ Bile rose up in his throat as he heard Mac protest again and again. "Oh no. . .Oh God, no." Slamming his fist into the dash he turned to the driver. "Get this moving. . .Now! Do whatever the hell you have to do but get us there! It's an emergency!" He closed his eyes tightly and unwelcome images played like a feature film behind his closed lids. 'Mac, please do that Marine thing you do. Please, hold on.'

"It's alright Sarah. . .Just hold still while I get this off of you." Mac was seated at the edge of the bed while Vukovic stood in front of her, trying to remove the blouse she'd been wearing.

Through Mac's hazed and heavy head, thoughts were trying to formulate without much result. She tried to recall Marine techniques of self defense, but her body was too heavy to move. "Vic. . .Just. . .go." She slurred. Her breathing increased as she fought whatever was happening inside of her body and in a slight moment, when she felt his hand brush her left breast, Mac summoned an inner strength. Winding up sloppily, she lunged forward, her right fist connecting with the left side of his head. It wasn't enough though and quickly she learned that all it did was enrage Vukovic.

"You fucking bitch." The back of his hand struck her cheek so hard, Mac could have sworn she'd seen stars. "I've tried to wait patiently, but it's not my virtue. . .Did you enjoy your drink, huh, Sarah?"

"You. . .you put something in it?"

Vic chuckled malevolently. "Yeah, guess you can say that. . .Conscious or not, you are going to let me fuck you. . .Now, you either stop resisting or I'll just take it by force."

Anger boiled through her veins at an alarming pace and in another moment of slight clarity, Mac was able to throw herself at him, knocking Vic into the rock wall. "Ooof." She grunted as her body fell to the floor. Struggling on all fours, she tried crawling to the door, but a hand on her ankle stopped any forward progression. Her hair was pulled back hard, bending her head in an angle that hurt her neck. Vic's head came down upon hers, giving her a bruising kiss that she tried to avoid.

"Night, night." Her final attempt to resist him was the final blow. Taking a vase off of a night stand, he slammed it to the back of Mac's head, sending her into oblivion.

Roughly, he grabbed Mac's limp body and unceremoniously dropped her into the center of the bed. He stripped down to nothing, then joined her on the bed, straddling her waist. Uneasy fingers slipped off the blouse she was wearing. Reaching the night table, he pulled out a Navy Seal style knife that he'd carried around for situations just as these. He trailed the knife down her throat and passed the valley of her breasts leaving a thin pink trail down her skin. Moving lower, he used the knife to slice the hem of her skirt. "Mmmm, so beautiful."

Nudging her thighs apart, he slipped in-between. With one hand he removed her skirt leaving her in just underwear. "This has definitely got to go." He said, taking the knife and running it around her bikini area, under Mac's panties. With three slices of the knife, he managed to remove the fabric.

Frantically, Harm raced down the corridors of the hotel, his heart hammering hard inside his chest. When they'd arrived outside of the Inn, he'd tossed a wad of bills at the Cabbie and quickly set off running like a madman in the night. The staff, he knew, would be forced to call the police. His instincts took him straight to the door which he crashed through.

In the thrill of the moment, Vic didn't even register the door breaking open, nor the six foot four inch warrior on the other side.

In a second, Harm digested everything that he was seeing with such gritty detail that it would likely haunt him for months to come. Mac's head was limply hanging to one side. He could clearly see the blood on the corner of her mouth as well as the growing red stain that he assumed was coming from the base of her skull. Her clothes were on the floor along with Vukovic's and though her breasts were not fully exposed, he could see the distinctive form of a Marine issued bra and an angry red mark that ran down her chest. Her attacker was seated, naked, between her parted thighs. That was all he was allowed to see, as a second later, blinding rage had him jumping on that bed like a jungle cat.

"You son of a bitch!" Harm growled, grabbing Vic's shoulder and pulling so hard, the other man nearly flew across the room and into a leather sofa. Pure hatred and anger pumped through Harm's blood as he dove on top of Vukovic and let his fists fly.

His first punch landed squarely at his nose, shattering the cartilage. "That is for Mac." He said, then wound up for another, which landed on his cheek. "That is for me." The force of the blow sent Vic to the ground with Harm following. "You son of a bitch." Unable to control the rage, he grabbed Vic's hair tightly, holding his head still as he began to punch the younger man with a blind fury that he'd never felt before. One punch. Two punches. At three, he felt his knuckles aching, bruising. By four they were completely covered in Vic's blood. Five, six and seven before his eyes landed on a telephone that was resting on a small table in front of him. He reached for it, his hand gripping tightly as his arm raised it over Vic's head. The seconds which went by felt like minutes, like an eternity. He took one glance at Mac's still form and then shifted his gaze to Vic who lay under him, unconscious and bleeding badly.

This final blow would be it, the one that would kill their tormenter. The one that would obliterate the man who'd threaten to take everything away and nearly did. Harm's hand shook violently as a decision weighed deep within him.

And then, the answer came in the form of his conscience.

Whatever he was, Harm was sure there was _one_ thing that he wasn't. "I'm not a murderer." He stated with confidence, letting the phone slide from his fingers and hit the floor with a loud clang. "I'm not like you. . .I'm not a murderer." He got off of Vic, stumbling backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed.

Turning, he saw Mac and couldn't help the involuntary gasp at seeing her in such a precarious position. She was bloody in places he was sure he didn't want to check, and that wound to her head had stained nearly the whole pillow red. To protect her modesty, he took the sheets and covered her body, then sank down next to her, cradling Mac as best he could. Two seconds later, Gunny, Sturgis and two uniformed police officers ran through the door. The officers immediately trained their guns on him, but Sturgis called them off. "Arrest him." Harm said, pointing at Vic who lay unconscious and half naked on the floor. "Call 911, she needs to go to the hospital, fast!"

Gunny's face fell completely. He'd never seen Mac like this, so helpless and frail. "Already did, they'll be here soon." Both he and Sturgis had heard Mac's struggle.

With an unconscious Vukovic in custody, one of the officers turned to Harm. "Sir, can you tell me what happened?"

Harm nodded. "He. . .he tried to. . .to ra. . rape my wife." He kept Mac cradled close to him, blankets wrapped tightly. The ambulance took them both away minutes later.

April 17, 2010  
1345 Local  
County Hospital  
San Luis Obispo, California

Harm sat in the waiting room his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee which tasted more like battery acid than Tiner's ever did. A few hours ago, he'd sent his friends home knowing that Turner had work the next morning and Gunny had a girlfriend who was worried sick about him. They'd left in one vehicle, leaving the remaining one, also an SUV from their office, to Harm's care. Thankfully, some of the dust was starting to settle, but the one key ingredient was missing – Mac still hadn't woken up.

It was close to eleven in the evening, when they'd arrived at County Hospital. Mac had been rushed through the ER and Harm had been ordered to seek medical assistance for his own injuries. The gash over his eyebrow had been sewn and his fists, which were not broken, but badly bruised and cut, had been treated with ointment and wrapped. Then, he sat in the waiting room, answering question after question to the police officers who'd come looking for him. "Look, I don't give a rats ass what Vukovic says happened, alright! He tried to rape my girlfriend!" He'd yelled at the cops, the same two that had taken Vic into custody hours earlier.

"Girlfriend?" One of the officers said with a raised brow. "Is she your wife or is she your girlfriend? Because, back at Madonna's you called her your _wife_."

Any residual anger had rushed out of him, almost as if someone had deflated a balloon. Had he actually called her his wife? "Did I really say that?" He sunk into one of the chairs and glanced towards his friends who shared a knowing look. "Did I really?"

Sturgis nodded, smiling slightly. "Yeah. . .I ah, didn't have the heart to correct you on that."

Calmer now, he glanced up at the officer, "She's my girlfriend. . .we live together. . .This, all of this was part of an investigation." Reaching into his back pocket, he produced his wallet and pulled out his military ID and a business card. "My partner here, and I are the owners of this Private Investigation company. . ." The rest of the story was said with as much care as possible. He didn't reveal what he knew about Vic's investigation, but what he had said was enough to let him off with just a slap on the wrist.

The two officers had looked at each other, sharing a similar expression. "I don't see an assault charge, Buck. All I see is a guy looking out for his girl. . .As far as I'm concerned, that Vukovic character fell down a flight of stairs." With a wink, he extended his hand to Harm and they shook on it. Thankfully something went right.

Standing, he stretched out the kinks in his body and shuffled his way towards Mac's room to find her eyes open and glancing around the hospital room with a look of mixed confusion and perplexing fear. "Mac?" Harm dumped the rest of the coffee in a small bin next to the bathroom and then hurried across the room to her. "Mac?" Her right cheek was bruised, lower lip cut slightly. Her head was bandaged, protecting the stitches she'd received as a result to the porcelain cutting a gash at the base of her skull.

Never had she been so happy to see him and boy had their been times. This time, when she felt his arms wrap around her body, Mac felt good again, whole again. "What happened?" She asked quietly, her voice just a whisper.

"What do you remember?"

"Well." Closing her eyes, she was transported back in time and into the Madonna Inn. She was in Vic's room, her head spinning, body unresponsive to her commands. And then, they were fighting. She'd struck Vic once and lunged at him on her second attack. Then she felt his hand roughly pulling her hair and the blow to the head which had knocked her out. "He drugged me. I think. . .at least, that's the only part that really makes sense to me. . .I was so. . . I couldn't control my body. . .and he was trying to. . ." Shifting slightly, Mac became aware of a pain on her inner thighs and the slight sting which ran across her chest. Brown eyes filled with tears at the thought of what happened. "Oh God." She lowered her face into her hands. "Oh God."

"Mac, no." His hands touched her own, lowering them so the could look her directly in the eye. "Vukovic didn't. . .I mean. . .He didn't. . .didn't. . .Damnit! I can't even say it!" He said angrily, turning away at the revolting thoughts of Vukovic attacking her to savagely. "He didn't . . .rape you." There, he'd said it, gotten it out in the open. They'd worked countless rape cases, but this one, though the act had not been committed, it was tearing him up inside. If he'd arrived a minute later. . . "There are some stitches on your inner thigh. . .Look, we'll talk about this when. . ."

"No, Harm. . .I need to know now. . .I need to get it out of the way now." She said with conviction and then reached a hand over to grab his own. "Please."

Sighing, he relented, squeezing her hand tightly. "Vukovic had a knife with him. . .the types used by Navy Seals. . .Apparently he used them to remove some of your clothing. . .and when he removed your. . .your underwear, he cut your skin. . . you're inner thigh." Moving upwards, he pulled open her gown slightly, allowing Mac to see the thin, pink line going down her chest. "He did that too. . .That'll heal though. . .they all will heal. . .you won't have permanent marks like I do."

Christ, the one thing he'd prayed was for Mac not to be disfigured in any way. His own disfigurement, the marks on his back done by a jealous lover, had cost him greatly. It made him feel like less of a man, something that had taken sometime to get over. And yet, when his fingers would brush the raised marks, the nightmare would be revisited. He didn't want that for Mac. Not now, not ever. "What happened?"

She pointed at his other hand which was wrapped. "What did you do?"

"I beat the shit out of him. . .The cops told me he doesn't look too hot." He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. "I wanted to kill him, Mac. . .I had a phone raised over my head and was ready to beat his skull in. . .But, I couldn't. . .I'm not a murderer. I'm not like him."

"No, you're not." Mac's hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing against his unshaven face. "You protected me, like you said you would. . .Thank you."

He pressed his hand to her own. "You don't have to thank me, Mac. . .You'd have done the same for me. . . .The cops are coming by later for a statement."

"Statement?" God, she hadn't even thought about that. Though, there was one problem with having Vukovic arrested. "I'm _not_ pressing charges."

"Are you nuts?" For a moment, he believed that their dates had affected Mac. That somehow she'd become desensitized to Vic. "Maaaac."

No, she had another idea, a thought that went beyond what Vic had done to her. "Harm, if I press charges now, no judge will let me prosecute against him. . .This can be twisted around to make it seem like love triangle involving the three of us." The idea made her sick. Whatever triangle she, Harm and Vic were caught in, love wasn't involved. At least, not where Vic was concerned. "That other case, we have information."

"The Defense will try reasonable doubt."

"And lose. . .We have the letters to Arjan's girlfriend, the dozens of personnel that saw them fight. . I can win this. . .And the charge won't be just assault . .It would be on various things – Destruction of military property, Extortion, Involuntary Manslaughter. . . Espionage, Treason. . .If we don't get him on everything, we'll get him on one."

Harm only hoped that in the process of knocking Vukovic down, she didn't take a hit. "I trust your lawyering skills, Mac. Always have, but this isn't just a regular case anymore. . ."

"Hewitt can only bend the laws so far before they snap. . .It's a miracle she was able to bend them _this_ far to begin with."

Ah, but he had an answer for that. Or, at least, he had an idea that was just too realistic to pass up. "What if I said I'd discovered who Vic's father was?"

"Satan?" Mac said with a snort. Sobering slightly, she rose a brow in question. "Wait, _who_ is he?"

"Okay. . .I don't have indisputable proof. . .But, I worked some numbers, saw some pictures. . .And, with all of the dirty politics that Hewitt had her fingers in. . . .I think that it's possible that. . .well."

"Harm! Spill it!"

"Garver. . .I think his father is President Garver." He reached for his wallet and from the section where the money was stored, he pulled out a folded photograph. "They went to the same College. He was two years older. Now do the math. That was in 1974."

There wasn't much math to do, she'd study Vic's stats ad nausea. "They look similar." She pointed out, taking a crumpled sheet that Harm held out to her. A picture of Garver was on the right and one of Vic was to the left. "We won't be able to use any of this, will we?"

"Probably not. . .But, it gives us an angle should Hewitt try to mess with the proceedings. . .Mac, you need to be careful."

"I will."

For his part, he already contacted the police to keep an officer watching Mac while they were still in San Luis Obispo, once they got back to San Diego, however, he would see to getting the base CO to detailing a handful of Marines in on what he was going to call "Mac Watch."


	29. What Is Treason?

Hey gang! I'm back from a, so so vacation. Relaxing but somewhat boring. We stayed in Florida went to Mount Dora, Silver Springs (That was the coolest part of the trip - glass bottom boats and crystal clear water, I got to feed a giraffe) and then Crystal River.

It was semi-sucky. Half of my family was arguing the entire time and whether we liked it or not, it put a damper in everyone's spirits. My laptop was left behind because it's just not charging and, to my chagrin, all of the damned mobile home parks we stayed at had FREE WIFI! Yes, major Internet withdrawals. LOL! twitch

Anyway, I've been working to finish the whole story - Part 30 and 31 since Monday. Actually, I spent from about 4pm - midnight fixing, editing, tossing, deleting and finalizing part 30. Anti-Vuko's will love the ending. ;-)

And part 31 is a shipper chapter called "Christmas In July." Tee Hee! I've started writing "The Webbs We Tangle Ourselves In" (Anyone got a better name for it?) And I should start to post when I am, at least, six chapters in, or so. Between the stories, I have a few others that I wrote and never posted on neither FFnet or JAA. Cool, huh? ;)

Alright, here we go!

**PART 29 – What Is Treason?**

June 13, 2010  
2002 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

Creamy bubbles filled up the large tub, smells of lavender and sandalwood wafted into the air giving the room a sense of relaxation with intermingled passion. Mac chuckled at her lover who was lying on top, balancing the weight of his body on his forearms which were placed on either side of her. Out of the bubbles, she could only see his eyes and the tip of his nose. The puff of breath leaving his nostrils blowing the bubbles away slightly. To Mac, he looked like an alligator. "What?" He asked curiously. Lifting himself upwards, he made to kiss her, but a hand on his chest stopped him. "What?"

"I'm not kissing you with a mouth full of bubbles." She said with a sexy grin, then dipped her hand in the water, dispersing some bubbles to cup clean water in the palm of her hand. She cleaned his face of the bubbles, then pushed herself up, her legs tangling with his, her hands sliding down his back. "There. Now, c'mere."

He kissed her slowly, longingly, savoring the taste of orange juice which she'd been drinking out of a wine glass. When they broke for air, he stayed a mere two inches away from her face, his eyes drinking in her own. "I could get used to this." Harm said in a husky, sexy tone that was reserved for intimate settings only. "Though I am not the bubbles type. . .But if you stick a sexy Marine under me. . .well, then I can negotiate."

The sudden change on her face, the look in her eyes screamed 'challenge.' He was always challenging her 'always on top' comment of a lifetime ago. "Oh really?" Mac maneuvered her hips so that she could flip to her side, barely fitting in the tub with Harm who was watching her with an amused expression. Her hand came to his chest, pushing him to his side and then downward.

He got it now. "You're trying to put me onto my back, aren't you?"

"Uh huh."

"You know, you could just ask."

Mac brought a leg over his hip, her other leg coming between his own. "Yea, but this is much more fun." Complacently he came to his back, his arms immediately wrapping around her as she lay across his body. "So you only like Marines on the bottom?" Suggestively, she rubbed her body against his, her eyes locked on his blue orbs.

Damnit, she was killing him. "Well, top will do too. . .but only if it's a _certain_ Marine." He grunted out.

Suddenly, Mac stopped her movements and a cute little pout came to her lips. "Certain Marines, huh? Guess I better call Gunny."

"Ma-ac!" Grabbing her in a crushing hold, he brought her completely against him, their lips just inches away. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue, then kissed her thoroughly. Her hand was teasing his thigh, moving towards the middle and just as she was about to reach for the prize he stopped her. "As much as I love this, Mac. . .You need to prepare for tomorrow."

And that was it, the scissor that broke the thread that had been weaved around them. Slightly angry, she raised herself off of him and slid to the end of the tub, bringing her arms across her chest. "I don't need to prepare, Harm. . .I need to ignore it for a while, to relax."

"And you will, after the trial is over. . .Mac, look, this is a make or break case, this will hurt your career."

"I don't care about my career, Harm. . .Frankly, if Vic walks, it's not worth being in the Marines. And it certainly isn't worth being a JAG if creeps like him can run around loose."

"Right, and that's why you need to have your head in the game and not on me."

Sighing, she brought a hand up, raking it through her wet hair. "This case is turning out to be a royal pain in the ass, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Mac splashed some of the warm water on her face, then glanced back up at him. "Did I tell you I requested a different judge?"

That he remembered, it was never discussed with him. Harm was suddenly worried. "Is that a wise decision, Mac? I mean, if anyone finds out. . ."

"I ran it through Cresswell and he agreed. . .The Judge was a woman, a Lieutenant Colonel Ross."

Harm nodded, the name rang a bell. "I know her, one of my junior officers in London had her as judge a few times. . .She was very fair though, why did you ask for her to be removed?"

Her stare said 'you've got to be kidding me.' Shifting slightly, she brought her legs to either side of him. "Harm, think about it. _Female_. _Marine. _And I'm senior to her."

"Reeks of improper command influence. . .though technically she's not under your command."

"No, but conduct unbecoming. . .and slap on a good two other charges against me. . .It's bad enough I couldn't handle the Article 32." That aspect of Vic's case had wound up, solidly on both Sturgis' and Bud's laps. Though her injuries from the attack were minimal, she'd yet to be fit for duty when the Article 32 had come up. Thankfully, Sturgis and Bud did a stellar job and the judge had no reason not to have the case proceed. "I heard that the defense tried a few crazy stunts."

"Yup. . .But just the word 'espionage' made it clear to the judge that this wasn't a mistake. . .He barely gave the defense a chance to say much. . ." Which was a good thing, not that it would have mattered, Vic's lawyer wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. "I wouldn't be surprised if he tries for a civilian for the court-martial."

Mac snorted. "'Course he will and mommy dearest will pay for it and get him the best money can buy." While she didn't sound terrified by the notion, Mac was certainly displeased. "There should be some law that disallows the use of civilian representation. . .Besides the fact that most of them are damned annoying, they try to pin every problem on the military and whatever bad job they think we are doing."

If Harm knew any better, which he did, toying with whatever tangent she was on wouldn't be wise. However, "You sound like you're worried, Mac."

"I'm _not_ worried. . .It just pisses me off."

"Mac, you went against Juanita Ressler and several hot shot civvies and won, this should be a walk in the park."

It would have been had she not been prosecuting against someone who hurt the man that she loved. That alone made things damned near impossible. She was trying to base the case on its merits and its objective findings, but her bias kept getting in the way. In the beginning, she'd had problems disassociating her personal from business life, but Harm had helped her deal with that aspect. This time though, personal _was_ mixed with business. There was no two ways about it. Vic had tried to kill Harm and to cover his tracks had someone else do it. That alone made her smell the revenge. It didn't help that Vic wasn't exactly well liked. "Yeah, it should. . ." Raising her head, she sought his eyes out. There was something she needed from him, something that he wouldn't be too please to give. "Harm, I need a favor from you."

"Anything."

Gulping, she tore her gaze away from his, her hands cupped some of the bubbles. "This might sound harsh, but I need you to stay outside when I am prosecuting. I need to keep my mind on things and with you there, it's easy for me to let my love of you cloud my judgment. . .I know what happened, I am confident that what I believe _is_ the truth, but what I believe won't make up the members minds."

Harm wasn't hurt by her admission. If anything, he understood where she was coming from. "I'll be outside the courtroom, Mac. . .But, when the verdict is read, you better believe I'll be standing behind you, Marine."

"I'm counting on that."

0958 Local  
Courtroom Six  
Joint Legal Services Southwest (JLSS)  
San Diego, California

Alexander Robiard's business of the day wasn't to get his client off, though he believed he had a strong case of reasonable doubt. His deal was to try and stop the case indefinitely. Just before the members were brought in, he stood up wearing a fancy suit, exuding the type of confidence that had 'slime ball' written all over it. "Your honor, if it pleases the court, I would like to be granted a mistrial due to prosecutorial misconduct."

The Judge, Rear Admiral Jacob Bidermeyer, wasn't at all impressed with the presence of a civilian lawyer in his courtroom. As far as he was concerned, if the alleged crime was committed on military property, then the only attorneys present should be military ones, period. "On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that my client assaulted the prosecutor, Colonel Sarah MacKenzie." Various 'ooooohs' and 'aaaaaahs' resonated within the walls and the room that was silent just moments before, roared to life.

"Order! Order!" Bidermeyer's gavel calmed the masses and he addressed Mac directly. "Is this true, Colonel?"

"The charges were dropped, your honor. . .What has or has not occurred between Lieutenant Commander Vukovic and myself has no bearing on this case."

Bidermeyer had always been known as a hardass. He didn't take shit from anyone and never would. Though it was obvious, by the tint of Mac's cheeks, that Robiard was telling the truth, without documentation to prove it, the point, as far as he was concerned, was moot. "Mr. Robiard, unless you can find me a formal charge against the Lieutenant Commander by Colonel MacKenzie, I'm afraid your motion will be denied. Does such a document exist?"

It didn't, for the moment in which Mac dropped the charges, the paperwork was ripped to shreds in front of her by two very pissed off police officers. "I have the paperwork from the arresting officers but don't. . ."

"That's not what I asked for. . ."

Alright, so the woman had won round one. He still had plenty of tricks up his sleeve, including a few witnesses which he knew would be damning to the prosecution. "No, sir. . .such documents do not exist. . .It's quite obvious why." Robiard said under his breath, but the statement still carried in the now silent courtroom.

Bidermeyer was now seething, "Mr. Robiard, I do hope that you are able to keep comments such as those to yourself when the members are called in. . .This is a military court, not whatever circus, freak show act you civilians are used to. . .am I understood?"

"Yes judge." Like he had a choice? An anonymous source had given him mucho dinero for this case with the promise to double the money if he won. The zeros on the check alone would be enough to let him retire sooner than he was planning.

"Now, Colonel, I better not see this as some form of vendetta because I _will_ issue a mistrial, am I understood?"

"Yes, your honor. . ." To be honest, there wasn't a prosecuting military lawyer around who wouldn't turn this into some sort of vendetta. One of their own harming another, that just didn't fly, especially with someone as respected as Harm. Especially when someone like Harm was trying to protect the lives of other service men and women.

Once the jurors were settled and given final instructions, Mac took a deep breath and stood. "What is treason?" The word ran deep in the hearts and soul of everyone seated in the courtroom. She could swear that even Bidermeyer cringed. The only reason why article number 106 of the UCMJ had been brought up was Loftness. He'd pushed for the espionage charge stating, without reservation, that Vic's attack on Arjan would be considered an act of treason as it made the ship lose two valuable members of the crew, thus aiding the enemy. Luckily, he'd managed to hide that technicality between the lines while Vuckovic's case went to trial. Not even Madam Secretary had a chance to over turn it. Not that she'd wanted to anyway, see, son or not, Hewitt had started to notice that it was much better if Vic was behind bars. He was a liability to her and one that she didn't need.

Sarah MacKenzie, believe it or not, was doing her a favor. "According to the American Heritage dictionary, treason is 'a violation of allegiance toward one's country or sovereign, especially the betrayal of one's country by waging war against it or by consciously and purposely acting to aid its enemies'. . .Lieutenant Commander Vukovic may not have _purposely_ tried to aid his enemies, but by blackmailing one Airman Vincent Arjan into destroying a forty-eight million dollar plane, no one can argue that he was aiding the enemy. . .The government will bring forward Captain Rabb, a victim and survivor of the plane mishap that brought us to this day. We will also question an NCIS investigator who will concisely show you that the plane was, indeed, tampered with. And finally, the witnesses of an argument between the Airman and the Commander. . .We will prove that Lieutenant Commander Vukovic acted heinously and maliciously towards two of our own. Two men that were needed to fight a battle with an unknown enemy. One of those two men is dead, the other was left to die and rescued because of a sheer miracle. So, what is treason? That's what _you _are here to decide."

Several minutes later, after a poor opening statement from the defense, Mac called in her first witness. "The Government calls Captain Harmon Rabb Junior to the stand." She knew Robiard would object, surely Vic had disclosed the nature of her relationship with Harm. And maybe it was a bad strategy to bring him up right off the bat. But, she felt she needed to set the tone and was going to do that any way possible.

Robiard rose from his chair, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. "Objection your honor."

The look on Bidermeyer's face clearly read: 'why me!' "What is your objection?"

"Captain Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie are involved in a relationship of a romantic nature. . . Anything he says will, of course, be in _her_ favor."

Never one to allow someone to one up her, Mac turned towards Robiard. "Though the Defense is correct, your honor, my involvement with Captain Rabb has no bearing on this case. . .I will treat the captain the same way I treat all of my witnesses. . .Captain Rabb will tell the truth, anything else would perjure the Captain."

"How can we be assured of this, judge?"

Bidermeyer was already imagining a countless array of sidebars. "Approach. . ." He placed his hand over the microphone, then leaned in to address the lawyers. "Is this how the whole trial is going to be? If so, please let me know and I will request it be postponed until new counsel is brought in for _both_ parties."

"Sir, I realize that my relationship with the Captain might make me biased. . ."

"Might?" Robiard interrupted, "Judge, Captain Rabb was one of the victims! I can guarantee that this is _nothing_ but vindictive prosecution. . .I am sure the Colonel wouldn't give a damn if it were. . ."

Now it was her turn to interrupt, "Sir, the Captain, as you well know, is also a lawyer and served JAG for several years. . .We know how to disassociate ourselves."

One thing Bidermeyer despised was playing favorites, even if it meant military against civilian. This time, he could see through Mac and the fact that justice needed to be served. This case, he knew, needed the right touch and Colonel MacKenzie was that right touch. "Overruled. . .Colonel, no monkey business in my courtroom."

She took a deep breath and then waited while Harm was escorted in, wearing his summer whites and the golden wings he hoped he'd still be able to keep when all was said and done. Harm hadn't been _this_ nervous during a case in years. Then again, he never had to be questioned on the stand by his girlfriend before either. "Captain Rabb, what is your relationship with the defendant?"

Harm glanced over Mac's shoulder towards Vukovic who still had the marks from the beating he'd encountered. Every once in a while, that night still plagued him, he figured it always would. The thoughts of slamming that phone over Vic's head and ending his life made him feel like a fool for not doing so. Deep inside, he knew what he did was right. "We worked together briefly my last year at JAG Headquarters in Falls Church, Virginia."

"How would you describe his work ethic?"

He resisted the urge to chuckle. Could lying be considered a work ethic? "Lousy, to say the least."

"What makes you say that?"

"We worked on a case together seeing as General Cresswell believed, then Lieutenant Vukovic needed some pointers. . .I had a good 'win' record. . .However, after dressing him down privately due to a rookie mistake, the Lieutenant mouthed off stating that he was running the show."

"What did you do then?"

Harm shrugged, he did what he would to just about anyone in that situation. "I pretty much let him hang himself. . .We lost the case as well."

Mac turned away from Harm. She was doing what she wanted, starting off slow before taking that big chunk that would not just sway the members, but put them completely on her side from the get go. Questioning Harm, thankfully, was much easier than she'd thought. "Changing subjects, what were you doing this past December?"

"I was training pilots on how to fly the F-14. . .It had been brought back for a special mission. . ."

"What mission was this?" It now being public knowledge, they could discuss the on goings with Neroli as long as certain details were kept confidential.

"The one that put us up against former military pilots now serving a militia of sorts called Neroli." The moment his statement sank in, a wave of commotion was needed to be toned down by the sound of the gavel.

"What happened to you the day of December 23, 2009?"

What happened? In all honesty, he wasn't sure. The pieces had started to fit once he got his memory back, but it still played in his head at super sonic speed. There was no way to slow it down. "I was scheduled to fly off of the Henry with my wingman which we did, only to encounter hostiles near the ship."

"Continue, Captain."

Harm took a deep breath and it was almost as if he were on the plane again. "We did a lot of fancy aerobatics. . .True dog fighting. . .It ended up that our wingman was shot so I continued after the target and got one. The second was coming at us and that's when the plane became unresponsive. . .I couldn't get the F-14 to do much of what I wanted and knew it wouldn't be long before we had to eject."

"Did you eject?"

"Well, yes, but that was another issue all together. . .See, my RIO ejected just fine, me. . .Not even the manual ejection was working. Eventually it did get pulled and by that time, the enemy managed to get a shot off. . .I recall sailing through a ball of fire and landing in the water. . .everything else is a blur."

Mac nodded, she had thoughts of going into his whole problem with amnesia, but decided to cut it off short. The impact of the malfunction with the plane was enough at the moment. "In your opinion, as a pilot, what do you think happened to that plane?"

Robiard stood up. "Objection, your honor. Captain Rabb is a pilot _not_ a mechanic."

"As a pilot, I may not be a mechanic, but I know an awful lot about that plane, Mr. Robiard."

"Overruled and Captain, only answer when questioned." Bidermeyer could already feel the headache coming in and thanked God he remembered to put a bottle of aspirin on the bench.

Turning back towards Harm, Mac made eye contact with him, "Captain, same question."

"As a pilot, I know there was a major malfunction on that plane. . .It's not normal for a plane that gets forty hours of maintenance to just. . .stop responding. . .They don't do that unless something was wrong or something was tampered with."

She gave him a lopsided smile, then turned to Bidermeyer. "Nothing further."

Robiard was up like a flash, grazing past Mac as she made it towards the prosecution table. He headed towards Harm with a steely confidence, a pen twirling between his fingers. After a long, awkward silence, his words clipped through the air, starling everyone, even Harm. "Captain, can you say, with one hundred percent certainty, that the plane was tampered with."

"Well, no, but. . "

"Then why is the issue being brought up at all?"

"Because planes don't just fall out of the sky. . .Especially not military planes."

"Ah, yes, but you were in a "hostile territory" with enemy planes shooting at you. . .Who's to say one of those planes didn't shoot something vital to your aircraft?"

"They could have, but no indicator lights were going off in the cock pit save for the siren warning us that a plane was trying to lock on. . .Bottom line, Mr. Robiard, that plane ceased functioning and it wasn't of its own accord."

"That's your _opinion, _Captain. . .And when someone is shot down, he will blame the Pope if need be. . .Nothing further your honor." Robiard quickly ended the questioning before Mac could whip out an objection.

With that, Harm took a deep breath and stepped off of the witness stand, his involvement in the case was now officially over with. What he found once he stepped out of the courtroom should have surprised him, yet it didn't. No, Secretary of the Navy Caroline Hewitt just didn't surprise him anymore.

The look in her eyes clearly stated that she was none too pleased with the proceedings. If looks could kill, he'd be fried to a crisp and probably tasty with ketchup. "Captain, may I have a word." Her voice, though, was cool and collected, was nothing but power and business. Harm found himself heading towards her with his heart hammering hard against his chest. All of their involvement with Hewitt he'd treated as part of some war that he had the displeasure of joining. Today, with the information he had in his pocket, both the battle and the war would be won by him and Mac. "This way."

Hewitt ushered him through the hallway and towards a courtroom door which was being guarded by one of her goons. Ever the gentleman, Harm held the door open for her, then followed her inside watching carefully for any sudden movement. He wouldn't put it past her to just pull out a gun and shoot him in cold blood. Though he didn't believe that she, herself, had the stomach for it, desperate people tend to find any means to survive. Thing was, she didn't realize just how trapped she was. Then again, he didn't know just how right _he_ was, he only had a gut feeling, a hunch. The type of hunches that had gotten him through the most gritty cases during his time at JAG. "I'm curious as to why you stepped out of the courtroom. Not rooting for your girlfriend?" She walked to the prosecution's table and slid onto its top, crossing one leg over the other.

For a moment, Harm could have sworn she was trying to seduce him. The idea causing the bile to rise in his throat. "I think that my presence might undermine what she's trying to accomplish. . .Mac knows I'm there for her, even if I am not sitting right behind her."

"Mmmmm." He made some sort of point, though, Hewitt found it to be ridiculous. "I'd be there, but I guess that's just me. . .I've never been one to really think ethically."

"Yes, I can tell." He sad with a wry smirk, then dared to step closer to her. "So, did you want to see me in order to bust my chops, or is there a reason why you hijacked me in here. . .ma'am."

This was definitely a man that she liked, he was smart, cocky and always walked around with an imaginary suit of armor that was difficult, but not impossible to penetrate. "Let me cut to the chase since I am sure you are curious with the trial. . .I came to set a truce with you and Colonel MacKenzie."

Harm couldn't be more shocked if the President himself appeared wearing a pink tutu. "A truce?"

"Yes, and don't look so surprised, Captain. . .I'm not a fool." Sighing dramatically, she jumped off of the table and then leaned against it. "Vukovic is my son and yes, I love him. . .I love him a great deal. Setting that aside, he's not good for me. . .Not good for my candidacy. . .He told me, in detail, how he attacked the Colonel. . .For that I am truly sorry. . ."

"You're sorry?" He was still shocked. After all of the hell they'd been put through because of her, Hewitt was seeking an apology?

"I never meant for things to go _this_ far. . .I just wanted my son to be happy and for me. . .well, you know what I want." She grinned conspiringly, thoughts of becoming the first female President making her positively giddy.

"Do I? Because, I'll tell you something, _ma'am_: I have no intentions of giving into whatever the Hell it is you want. Period."

"Captain. . ."

"So, I'm giving _you_ an out." Harm interrupted. He placed his briefcase on the defense table, then popped it open to fish out a folder. "This might make you see that it's time for things to change." He handed the folder to her, watching with quite amusement as the look on her face absolutely changed. "Oh, and I have copies, so you can keep that as a memento."

Hewitt glanced through pictures of herself and a young Richard Garver during their college years. The final two pictures were a side by side comparison of Garver and Vukovic, followed by one that Harm had specially created to see what Hewitt and Garver's child would look like today. The results were so similar, it was uncanny. "This means nothing. . .Nothing!" She yelled in anger then tossed the papers at Harm who didn't even flinch at her outburst.

"I know a few people in politics, Senator Latham being one of them. . .And she's willing to bat for _our_ team. . .So I'll strike a deal with you. . .Step down, do whatever the hell else you want. Your family has money, buy a small island and disappear. . .Oh, and don't bother trying to send someone after the Senator, she's being heavily guarded until this whole debacle ends."

"You can't do this! No one will believe you!"

Harm shrugged, it wasn't about belief or disbelief, it was about getting the information out. Rumors, he found, were often more devastating than the truth. "I don't need anyone to believe me, just as long as I put some doubt in people's minds. . .I have more ammo, so if you decide to fight, know that I am not backing down . . .I'm giving you an out, Madam Secretary, take it before my generous nature dissipates." With that, he turned from her, carefully traipsing over the mess of papers on the floor. "Good day, ma'am."

Hewitt's guttural scream could be heard ricocheting through the walls of JLSS.

Back in the courtroom, Mac had called up a special witness, NCIS Investigator and former Tomcat pilot, Agent Theo Garritty. Going through her regular routine, she got some slight background from the agent and then moved on to the investigation itself. It was understandable that Harm's plane couldn't be brought up, but the parts that they got were miraculously floating and able to be salvaged. "Not all of the plane was salvaged, but miraculously, most of the cockpit remained intact. We were able to take a close look at the plane's accelerometer and Captain Rabb's ejection seat."

"What did you find?"

"From what we saw with the accelerometer, the movements the Tomcat made were _not_ consistent with that of a plane that was fired upon . .There was no impact at all and yet, it just descended, rather quickly, on its own. . . . We found that the DFCS, Digital Flight Control System, which protects the aviators from mishaps, was tampered with. And, by the massive leak on the flight deck after take off, it was clear that the hydraulic fluid was leaking substantially. Either of these things could have caused the mishap."

"And the ejector seat?"

"This was also tampered with. . .One of the squib cables was not attached properly. The only reason why the seat eventually ejected was because another squib shorted, and as a result the other two took the charge to the rocket."

"Nothing further." Satisfied, she walked around the prosecution table and sat comfortably in the big, leather chair. During questioning, Mac had put her back once to the witness in order to gauge the member's looks. She was certain that four of them were on board with her. The others, they didn't seem convinced. When she first questioned Agent Garrity and he gave her his testimony as to all of the odd findings on Harm's plane, she had to thank Harm Senior just one more time. Someone had certainly been looking after Harm. It was a miracle that plane remained in the air as long as it did. A miracle that the ejector seat worked at all.

Now, Alexander Robiard didn't believe in miracles unless they came in the form of money, and lots of it. His questions to Garrity were all about discovering a 'logical' way for the plane's systems to fail. And yet, no matter what, he knew that it was too coincidental for so many things to have gone wrong at once. "Agent, you mentioned an accelerometer. For us lay persons, what is it?"

Garrity couldn't hold back a dry chuckle, "Well, an accelerometer is an instrument placed on a plane that measures acceleration and plane vibrations. In an F-14, which has various computers running through it, the accelerometer constantly sends information to an acceleorgraph which is an instrument that records various factors during flight. What we are concerned with in this case, is the vibration of the plane. . .All of this gets saved in case of a mishap or for training purposes."

"What did this. . .record. . . tell you?"

"That the plane decelerated and lost elevation _before_ the impact of a missile. . ."

"If all of this is computer generated, how can you be sure that it's one hundred percent correct?"

"Well, we can't be. . .but, it's rarely failed us."

"Ah, _rarely_. That's an interesting word to use, Agent. . Rare or not, many things on F-14s _have failed_ in the past. Now, can you say, without a shadow of a doubt, with one hundred percent certainty, that Captain Rabb's plane was indeed tampered with?"

"Conclusively, no, but it's my opini. . ."

"Nothing further."

Against her better judgment, but fueled with anger over Robiard's sudden blame on. . .on what exactly? Mac stood up and glanced at Bidermeyer, "Redirect?" At his nod, she came around the table and honed in on Agent Garrity. "In your opinion, was that plane tampered with?"

"In my opinion, yes."

"Why?"

Garrity took a breath. Through his years as both a pilot and an investigator he'd seen many things, some baffling and others downright shocking. But it was the types of things that he found on Harm's plane that made him see red. It was obvious, at least to him, that someone was trying to deliberately hurt either Captain Rabb, Commander Hawkes or the both of them. "Nothing in this world is perfect, but if anything comes close to it, it's military equipment. . .I found it extremely odd that three different problems occurred with that plane."

Three problems? The man had never stated a third problem, neither was it on the reports that she'd repeatedly glanced at. Though it was dangerous to move forward and ask something she didn't know the answer to, Mac pushed ahead. Her curiosity and want for justice superceded rational though. "Three?"

"Yes, three: the ejector seat, the DFCS and the Comm unit which was switched and never logged in, though several other changes, which were made prior to the mission, were logged, as is the custom. Records of that day state that the Captain and his wingman heard a loud noise over their headsets which blocked off any communications from the Henry. Both systems were destroyed and we were unable to test them."

"Thank you. . .Nothing further." She waited for Garrity to leave the stand, before presenting second to last witness, Seaman Andrea Chambers, Airman Vincent Arjan's secret girlfriend. To begin, she went through the relationship of her and Vinnie, intending to show that she was someone which Arjan trusted and had a close relationship with. To her surprise, none of the questions had been objected by Robiard. This threw her for a bit of a loop, what exactly would his strategy be?

Andrea did her best, despite her nervousness, to answer all of the questions truthfully. It was when Mac asked about Arjan's involvement with Harm's mishap, that the girl could not hold back a sob. "I'm sorry ma'am. It's just that. . .Vinnie liked the Captain, was always going on about how much he wanted to go to flight school. . .The week of the accident, he wasn't acting like himself. Vinnie was snipping at everyone in our little group. . .Even raised his voice at me, which wasn't his style. . .It was obvious that something really weird happened to Vinnie."

Something weird had, indeed, happened to Vinnie. Turning towards the defense's table, she found Vic shooting daggers towards her. Though her strong façade was well in place, Mac still felt vulnerable around him. Just the fact that he was able to get her guard down literally scared her. "Airman Arjan left you a note." Turning away, she went to her desk and took a note in a plastic bag and two pages from her briefcase. "I submit into evidence the note that Airman Arjan had left for Seaman Chambers. . .I also have a paper from a forensic specialist that confirmed this was Arjan's writing." She handed a copy of the papers to Robiard and one to Bidermeyer. The note, in its protective bag, was handed to Andrea. "Seaman, I know it's difficult, but could you please read us this letter?"

"_Andrea, I always promised I'd never lie to you and that was exactly what I did anyway. . .I'm sorry about this last week when I blew you off. . .And I am sorry for the future. . .Please know, it wasn't my intent to hurt you. . .I love you. . .Please forgive me for everything that I did. . .Forgive me for what I'm about to do. . .Tell them it wasn't my fault. . .Tell them that he made me do it. . .All my love, Vincent."_

With a gentle voice, Mac guided Andrea through the rest of the questioning. "I realize this must be difficult for you, Andrea. . .But please, tell us what happened to Vinnie the day you received this letter."

And that was Andrea's undoing, the memories of learning about Vincent's attempted suicide and subsequent death had troubled her greatly. She'd held it together, for the most part, while on the Henry. But now, it was a different story. Now there was no reason to remain stronger. "Vinnie. . .he. . .he jumped off of the ship. . .the SAR team rescued him, but he didn't make it."

"Was he the type to do something of the sort?"

"No! Vinnie had a lot going for him. . .He needed half a year of college and had been accepted to flight school. . .Someone like that doesn't throw their life away. Someone made him do it! Someone made him do it!"

Robiard shot straight up, he would not let that girl run away with the ball that she'd placed in his court. "Objection your honor, stating an opinion."

Turning to the members, the judge's steely gaze already framed what he was about to say. "The last part of Seaman Chambers' statement will be ignored. Colonel, anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Then, Mr. Robiard, it's your turn."

In a true slimy, lawyer fashion, he went straight to the jugular. "Seaman, you stated that Vinnie would not be the type to take his own life. . .But that's exactly what he did, wasn't it?"

"Yes. . .but."

"Which means that he felt guilty for something. . .And being Captain Rabb's plane captain, it's pretty obvious what that something was."

From her chair, Mac addressed the judge, "Objection your honor, counsel is editorializing."

"I agree." Bidermeyer pinned Robiard with another burning gaze. "Do you have a question, Mr. Robiard?"

Of course he did. "Yes, your honor. . .Seaman, do you believe that Airman Arjan blamed himself for Captain Rabb's accident?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." As he turned to head back to his seat, he made eye contact with Mac, giving her a sly smile which literally made her skin crawl. The nerve of that man! Damnit, it had been too long since she'd let opposing counsel get under her skin so much.


	30. Charges and Specifications

**Alrighty! One more after this one and then we're DOOOOOOONE You guys have been wonderful! Thank you for all of the feedback and even you lurkers, thanks for lurking. ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**J.**

**Part 30 – Charges and Specifications**

June 15, 2010  
1030 Local  
Courtroom Six  
Joint Legal Services Southwest (JLSS)  
San Diego, California

Petty Officer First Class Andrew Tompkins glanced towards the jury and then towards the defense's table where Vic sat with an unarmored expression of hatred. If it wasn't because all of the witnesses were under protection, at Colonel MacKenzie's request, testifying would have been out of the question. Nervously, he turned his head back towards Mac who stood, patiently waiting for him to answer. "What was the question, ma'am?"

Mac offered a compassionate smile and a nod of assurance. "I understand this is difficult Petty Officer. Please tell the court what you witnessed on the flight deck, December 23rd."

Andrew nodded solemnly and took a breath. As usual, the flight deck had been a massive wave of controlled chaos. Even so, he'd noticed something peculiar about it all. "We were readying the F-14's for launch. Captain Rabb, Commander Hawkes, and their wingmen: Commander Dodson and Commander Lutheran were aboard the planes. Just as Captain Rabb's plane was taxing towards catapult, I saw Vinnie. . .uh, Airman Arjan, run across the tarmac towards Lieutenant Commander Vukovic."

"Objection your honor." Robiard stood up quickly as Mac knew that he would, no doubt, challenge the validity of who it was that Andrew had seen. "It has already been established that, with cranials and goggles, it is close to impossible to determine who the man _or woman_ who spoke to Airman Arjan was."

Biting her lip to prevent herself from smiling, Mac turned towards Judge Bidermeyer. "Sir, if I can have a tiny bit of leeway, I will clear this up."

Bidermeyer scowled and his frown clearly stated he wouldn't like Mac's tactic, whatever it was. "You said 'tiny' Colonel, I didn't. . .Wrap it up, supersonic."

Turning back towards Andrew, Mac folded her arms across her chest. "Andrew, are you _one hundred percent certain_ that the person you saw speaking with Airman Arjan was Lieutenant Commander Vukovic?"

"One hundred and ten percent certain, ma'am." He stated with conviction.

"How can you be so sure?" She probed further, moving a little closer towards the stand in anticipation of the small piece of information that Robiard had clearly missed. It was not done on purpose, she'd simply forgotten to write it down in her notes seeing as she'd had her arm in a sling and her abilities to write were taken away temporarily. However, a good lawyer would know to pursue the facts. It wasn't her fault that he hadn't done that and she hadn't really withheld anything that he couldn't have found out during discovery. "And please remember, you are under oath."

Andrew nodded, "As we were doing the final checks on the planes, I was having trouble with the cranials. For some reason, they hadn't slid on properly. So, I decided to step inside of the island and have a look. When I did, Lieutenant Commander Vukovic was there holding the cranials in his hand. He seemed weirded out, like if he didn't know how they went on. So I offered to help and wound up straightening the vest and making sure his cranials were in place, as mine were giving me trouble. We stepped back outside at the same time and the Lieutenant Commander waved Vinnie over. It was clear that they were arguing. I mean, the Commander grabbed Airman Arjan's vest and shook him roughly. . .Then the mishaps occurred. . .Vinnie. . ." He trailed off and sighed deeply, the thoughts of his friend causing a rip within. "He was a fun guy, always smiling. But, after the mishap, he was acting guilty. Nervous as hell, skittish. And then he killed himself. Vinnie didn't have a reason to kill himself. He wasn't upset, he wasn't depressed. He'd gotten the girl and was accepted to flight school. He had everything he ever wanted. . .Something made him jump."

Mac hated the tactics she was using. She hated having Arjan's friends bring up his suicide over and over again but there was no choice in the matter. She only hoped that justice would be served. "Thank you, Petty Officer. Your witness." She said to Robiard, managing to side step him when he made to, purposely, walk into her.

Robiard buttoned up his jacket and made a project of staring directly at Mac and no where else. "Petty Officer, you and Airman Arjan weren't close, were you?"

"We used to be."

"Used to be, huh? What happened?"

Andrew shook his head, his eyes scanning out for Andrea who was seated at the back. "We fought over a girl. . .the last couple of months, or so, our friendship suffered because of it."

Robiard grinned evilly, then spun on his heel to face Andrew. "Then it is plausible, isn't it, to say that you may have thrown him from the carrier."

Exasperated at his bullying tactics, Mac stood up quickly. "Objection your honor! Petty Officer Tompkins was interviewed as were others that stated he was in his bunk when Airman Arjan allegedly jumped."

"Sustained."

Annoyed, Robiard tried another tactic. "Were you angry at Airman Arjan?"

"Yes." He answered honestly.

"Enough to kill him."

"No!"

"In fact, you paid someone to do it. To throw him off of the deck that night."

"No, sir!"

"And then made up this whole story with Lieutenant Commander Vukovic as your pawn!"

"That is a lie!"

"Is it? You said you were angry with Airman Arjan. It wouldn't be the first time or the last time that someone killed a friend over a lover."

"That might be true, but I didn't have him killed and I _did_ see Lieutenant Commander Vukovic arguing with Vinnie! I may have been pissed off at him but. . ."

Robiard reached for a paper on his desk and turned fully on Andrew. "Andz, that's your nick name, isn't it?"

Andrew stopped, eyebrow raised, confusion on his face. "Yeah, when they stuck all of us together, we made a joke of our names, adding a 'Z' to the end of it. I'm Andz, Arjan was Vinz, James was Jimz. . .Why does that matter?"

"It's funny that you mention James. . .Even funnier that he wasn't on the top of the Colonel's witness list." He was right about that, Mac had buried him between other witnesses when James had given her a little loophole that she preferred the Defense not know about. He turned accusingly towards Mac and then read out loud. "'Andz was pissed off as hell when he found out that Vinnie and Andrea were seeing each other. . .We caught them making out at the fantail and Andz tore them apart, slugged Vinnie and exclaimed that he was a dead man.'" Robiard stopped for a moment letting the words sink in fully. Tompkins was not on trial, but that didn't mean he couldn't place blame on the man. "This was the testimony given to me by Airman James Benson when I thought to re-interview him last night." He handed the paper over to Judge Bidermeyer then smirked evilly at Mac. "There were five thousand people aboard the carrier. That's five thousand potential culprits assuming that Airman Arjan didn't just kill himself after what he'd done to Captain Rabb's plane. . .Nothing further."

Mac couldn't bear to look at the two men sitting across from her. It wasn't until Bidermeyer suggested she redirect, that her mind began to work again. Remaining at her seat, she shot a gaze up at Andrew who stared back with sorrow in his eyes. "What happened when you found out Vinnie had been injured?"

"Andrea, James and I went to see him, but there was so much going on in sickbay that we weren't allowed."

"Who was standing outside? Who was the person which the nurses had thrown out?"

"Lieutenant Commander Vukovic, ma'am."

"That's right. . .And you were there, Andrew, and before you were barred entrance, did you see Vinnie?"

Andrew gulped roughly. He had seen Vincent's thrashing around on the bed, machines making God awful sounds as the staff tried to control his friend. It seemed, at least to him, a last effort of sorts. "Yes, I did ma'am. . .He was pointing at Lieutenant Commander Vukovic and yelling 'JAG!' Then he died."

Nodding, Mac stood, rifled around through the things on her desk only to retrieve a plastic baggie with a letter inside. "Please, Petty Officer. . .Read this for me." She handed him the letter and gave him a nod of encouragement.

"_God forgive me. I am a traitor. I betrayed my country. The LAW betrayed me. I won't go to jail. Someone else should go to jail. I am a coward. I'm sorry. – Vincent Arjan."_ Andrew glanced up at her, then handed the letter over. "The word 'law' is in capital letters."

"Yes, it is." She handed the evidence to Bidermeyer then turned towards Vukovic. "Nothing further, your honor."

After a short recess, the jury was brought back in for Robiard's shots at his witnesses. His plan was to place blame on anything other than his client. While that may have worked in a smaller case, this was just too monumental. Too many factors to consider and, though all of Mac's evidence was circumstantial, he hadn't come any closer to completely removing the blame from Vukovic. "Put me on the stand." Vic pleaded with his lawyer, his eyes shooting at him with a steely determination. "Robiard, I know how Sarah MacKenzie operates. I know how to counter her questions. . .Put me on the goddamned stand."

But he didn't, for Robiard knew too well that that people with a beef would find all loopholes possible to get what they wanted. And Sarah MacKenzie wanted Vukovic's head on a platter. "The defense calls former Admiral Albert Jethro Chegwidden to the stand."

Mac whipped her head so quickly she was sure she'd given herself whiplash. Her lips parted slightly, making a perfect 'O.' Last she heard of Chegwidden, he was in Italy with the love of his life. Why in the hell would he be called in as a witness to something he. . . "Objection, your honor. The prosecution was never alerted to this witness. Furthermore, and with all respect due Admiral Chegwidden, he couldn't possibly have information that is pertinent to this case." She turned to a very pissed off AJ Chegwidden. "My apologies, sir."

"He's a character witness, your honor. . .Someone who could tell us, without prejudice, about Captain Harmon Rabb Junior, one of the so called 'victims' of Lieutenant Commander Vukovic's alleged crimes."

Bidermeyer was nearing the end of his rope. Part of him wanted to disallow Chegwidden's testimony, the other part was truly curious. "Colonel, if you like I can give you half an hour to interview the Admiral."

Mac raised an eyebrow in annoyance. 'And ask him what!' She wanted to yell, but stood behind her Marine façade and sucked it up. "That will not be necessary your honor. . .But, if possible, I would like you to grant me the right to question Captain Rabb again, should it become necessary."

"Granted. . .Admiral, step up."

AJ shot Mac an apologetic glance and then traded one of anger with Robiard who was standing by his table, grinning. "How have you known Captain Rabb?"

"He was an officer under my command for the eight and a half years I was the Judge Advocate General for the Navy."

"Was he a good officer?"

"One of the best." He grinned, recalling some of Harm's most stellar moments, like the time he'd tenaciously helped save his daughter, Francesca.

"Is it true that Captain Rabb maintained his billet at JAG AND stayed current as an aviator?"

"This is true."

"How does one stay current as an aviator?"

" The Captain would do his carrier qualifications. I'd sometimes send him out on a case when it pertained to a carrier for this reason. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak." AJ wasn't the only person in the courtroom wondering where Robiard was going with these types of questions.

"Did it upset you, this dual lifestyle?"

In all honesty, sometimes it tended to infuriate him. AJ had often felt that Harm should pick one thing and stick to it, wanting to hold on to the past had never done anyone good. "Sometimes it did. I felt he was holding too tightly to something he thought was taken away for no reason. . .It was also a bit of a complication with the Captain away during the times when we were understaffed."

"As a pilot, how good was he?

Mac stood quickly, suddenly picking up on Robiard's attempt to put blame on Harm's piloting skills or, one could argue, lack their of. On paper, he was a liability. The Navy didn't care how many sorties he'd successfully flown or how many metals he had pinned to his chest. When you messed up, you messed up. His accidents were as permanent as murder on a rap sheet. "Objection your honor, the Captain is _not_ on trial. Nor is the Admiral adept to be questioned about avionics."

Robiard glared down at Mac, his obvious distaste for the woman growing by the second. "Your honor, the Colonel claims that Lieutenant Commander Vukovic's allegedly blackmailed Airman Arjan into tampering with the F-14 that nearly caused Captain Rabb's death. I would like to entertain that theory for a moment, if allowed."

Oh yeah, the end of the rope was near and after this case Judge Bidermeyer was considering a long vacation. "Overruled Colonel. . .Mr. Robiard, entertain all you like. . .but I do believe you're about to hang yourself." Which was something he'd be quite pleased to see. No, he really didn't like civilians.

He pinned his sights back on AJ. "Same question, Admiral. . .How good a pilot was Captain Rabb?"

AJ shrugged, avionics wasn't his specialty to say, with certainty, how good Harm's piloting skills were. "I wouldn't know. . .I was never part of the aviation sector of the Navy. . .However, considering he has three DFCs, two for saving the lives of fellow aviators and one for saving an entire carrier, I'd say he's an excellent pilot."

"Hmmm." Robiard seemingly nodded in agreement, then scratched his chin as he formulated his next question. "Did Captain Rabb ever have any accidents as a pilot?"

It was years ago and yet, AJ could clearly remember taking a call during Mac's rehearsal dinner and hearing Captain Ingles state, with an anxious voice, that one of his officers was missing. Even worse still was the look on Mac's face. She'd blamed herself for reasons he couldn't ever quite fathom. "Yes."

"How many?" The question faded into the silence of the courtroom and when AJ didn't answer, Robiard asked again. "How many?"

"I don't remember." He said, shaking his head. As the JAG he had more things to worry about than the exploits of all of his officers. There also came a time that, admittedly, he'd given up on Harm filling his shoes. The disappointment was evident when he'd treated the younger man so badly over rescuing the woman he clearly loved. "I don't remember."

"Too many to remember, interesting." Grabbing a folder from the table, Robiard paged through it, took two sheets and then handed them to AJ. "Sir, please read the list."

"'November 1991. Lieutenant Harmon Rabb Junior, 28, too low on the glide slope and unable to see the Meatball due to night blindness, crashes an F-14 Tomcat against the rear of the USS Seahawk. The ramp strike caused the death of his Radar Intercept Officer. Lieutenant Rabb's wings are stripped and as a result to his injuries, is placed on temporary leave."

Robiard nodded. "That's one. . .Please continue, Admiral." The information he'd found was short, a sentence really. So, he'd elaborated, adding a bit of theatrical flair for the benefit of the jury. "Two?"

AJ glanced at Mac, hoping to portray the sorrow he felt at going through this. He hated seeing her hurting, but there was nothing he could do. "January 1997. During an investigation involving several mishaps of squadron 259 Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Junior is seriously injured when a mid-air refueling plane's hose smashes into the canopy of his F-14 tomcat."

Mac shuddered at the thought and brought her hands up over her arms, rubbing them to warm herself. It was the first time since that day in '97 that she'd thought about the mishap. She and Bud were on the carrier, waiting for their return from the missing man formation when chaos had erupted. A pang against her chest grew ever painful as she heard his voice, the struggle as he maintained his bearings and managed to bring the plane down. It was nothing short of a miracle. Mac now knew, it was the first time she'd begun to fear Harm's involvements with the F-14. It was horrible to be so helpless. So, rather than admit her fear, she teased him about flying as a way to cope with the horrible thoughts she'd had in her head.

The next spot on the list wasn't an accident, but a near-miss when she was Harm's backseater and they'd been following Captain Hochausen, Harm's mentor. Due to Hochausen covering up vision problems they'd nearly crashed into power lines as a result. How the hell had that been Harm's fault? Part of her wanted to object, the other part, which held her logical reasoning, knew that it would sound like she was playing favorites. Defending Harm zealously would do her no good. It would make her seem like a cold hearted, vindictive prosecutor, out to avenge her boyfriend's tormenter. In this case, she had to separate her personal feelings from the business side of her job. So, she swallowed down the bile that had risen in her throat and sat there, listening as the list grew.

Mac was half expecting their little ride in a MIG to show up, but that was not just classified, it was unknown by all save Mark Sokol and the pilots that had shot him down. She smiled slightly at the memory, recalling when Harm told her that he'd never been shot down before. His pilot ego had taken a hit that day. And then, came that dreaded night in May of 2001. Mac could have sworn that, up to that point, she'd never cried so much in her life.

AJ stiffened visually, his eyes searching out Mac who was suddenly blocked off by Robiard. "May 2001. Commander Harmon Rabb Junior, 38, loses controls of his F-14 Tomcat over the Atlantic Ocean." He nearly rolled his eyes at how dramatic these phrases were sounding. "Commander Rabb and RIO Lieutenant Elizabeth Hawkes, eject. While Lieutenant Hawkes is found fairly quickly, Commander Rabb is lost at sea, recovered hours later and suffering from hypothermia."

One by one, each set of sentences was read, glazing over Harm playing tag with a nuke as if he were some sort of a thrill seeker, to his, supposedly, shooting down a dignitary over the Gulf when the passenger plane entered a 'No Fly' zone. "December 2010. . ." AJ trailed off, dis-heartedly flipping the paper over to find it blank. "There's nothing else."

"Well, that's because we know what happened. . . That's some list isn't it?"

If Harm's aviator skills would have been mentioned solely on the list, there wasn't anyone around who would give him his wings. However, Harm had been a seasoned pilot and the amount of sorties he'd flown compared to the, so called, 'accidents' were rather minimal. "For the amount of flight time the Captain has, the list is rather short."

"AH, but it does show that even the best of pilots, with three DFCs can have a bad day. . .And that is what the accident probably was, a bad day. . .Captain Rabb is human and as such mistakes can be made, no matter how well trained one is."

"Objecting your honor, defense is editorializing."

Ah, so he was. He spun on Mac, rolled his eyes visibly in her direction and then stated, "Nothing further."

"Redirect." She'd been itching to get her turn, though, in truth, Mac was rather nervous to question her friend and former CO. "Admiral, sir. Let's move away from Captain Rabb for a moment and turn to the man in question. . ." Turning, she faced Vukovic head on, making sure that AJ could see him, as well, from his vantage point. "A year before General Cresswell had become Judge Advocate General and you were still in that office, did paperwork about then Lieutenant Vukovic ever pass through your hands?"

"Yes, colonel, the Secretary of the Navy had sent me his files along with a few others for potential candidates for new Judge Advocates which were to be stationed in our office in Falls Church."

She'd remembered that fairly well. It was one of the many things that Chegwidden had lamented about his last year as their CO. "What did you do with his file?"

"I shredded the papers."

"And why was that?"

"Poor fit reps, alleged crimes that were just tossed away without going to any type of trial. . .Claims that he'd fought with other service members which were done away with two punitive letters of reprimand. . .I didn't believe he was fit to work in my office."

"Did you tell former SECNAV Sheffield this?"

"Yes." He had, in fact, AJ Chegwidden was certain that, after his rejection of then, Lieutenant Vukovic would never get a promotion ever again.

"But he wound up in the office a year later anyway. . . a man that you wouldn't have picked."

"That is correct."

"Nothing further. . .thank you Admiral." Sighing, she took her seat and waited for Robiard to re-direct. When he didn't, a sinking feeling came over her. Had they won? Had her dislike for Vukovic shown so much that everyone believed what Robiard accused her of – Vindictive Prosecution? Now, it was all in the Jury's hands.

1245 Local

Joint Legal Services Southwest (JLSS)

San Diego, California

Most of the group sat in the bullpen, waiting for the jury to come back with their verdict. Mac was in her office, fielding questions from reporters who wanted just a taste of a comment. Wearily, she put down the phone and glanced up to find Harm, in his Naval Whites, standing in front of her desk holding a cup of, "Tea?" She made a face and stuck her tongue out. Not that she really minded the tea, but at the moment, she needed something a little more potent. "Okay, I'll take it." Mac said, before his arguments about it being better for her could see the light of day. She took a sip of the liquid, sighing gratefully as the taste of mandarin and ginger assaulted her senses. "Thank you."

Harm smiled and slid into the chair across from her desk. "My pleasure." During the case, he'd been sitting outside with the media who'd been watching the trial over closed circuit TV. He was angered at the paper which Robiard made Chegwidden read. Not that any of it was classified, but still, those were mistakes, all of them. The only one he could really blame himself over was that ramp strike and still, he'd come to realize that it was meant to happen for whatever reason. Had it not, he'd never joined JAG and never had met Mac. Even the really, really bad stuff had their plus side. "You did good not objecting." He said casually knowing she'd understand what he was commenting on.

"I wanted to." Mac stated solemnly, then sat up and placed the cup on her desk. "Between my want to object and my want to kill him. . ." Trailing off, she glanced right at him and sighed sadly. "You know, today I finally realized when I came to fear you flying."

Surprised, his eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "It wasn't in 2001?"

"No, that mishap just heightened it. . .It was when the plexi broke during that refueling that went wrong. . .I remember standing next to Bud listening to you talking over the radio. . .I felt so helpless." She sighed again, then closed her eyes, hoping tears wouldn't fall at the moment. "I never wanted to feel that way again when it came to you."

AJ chose this moment to step into Mac's office. He wasn't in uniform nor was he their CO anymore and yet, it was amusing when Harm nearly came to attention. "At ease, Harm. . .I'm not in the Navy anymore, remember?" Motioning to the seat next to him, he asked. "May I?"

"Please." Mac stated. "Admiral. . ."

"AJ." He corrected.

She nodded and smiled. "AJ. . .Don't come to apologize. . .You did your job."

"I still can't help but think. . .if I'd remained in JAG for another year. . ."

Harm shook his head. For whatever reason, Vukovic was meant to torment them. If not then, then now. It would have happened one way or another. "Sir. . .AJ, it's not something you had a hand in. . .Hell, you tossed his file. . .Sheffield was being blackmailed." At his former CO's shocked appearance, he waved off slightly. "We'll explain at another time. It's. . .complicated."

"I'm holding you to that, Rabb." Settling himself into the chair, he glared accusingly between both of his former officers. "So. . .Guess you two finally figured things out?" The matching blushes they wore volumes. "About damned time."

"Colonel." Coates stated from the door, excusing herself when the three of them turned her way. "The Jury is back from deliberation."

Mac's internal clock had told her it had been less than an hour. "Damn."

"That might be a good thing, Mac." Harm pointed out, ever hopeful that their tormenter would see the other side of justice.

Stepping into the courtroom, Mac was surprised at the turnout. Almost all of the seats were full, save for the bench behind her which was reserved for the members of her staff. Lieutenant Commander Tali Mayfield shot her a grateful glance. Mac had decided not to subject the younger woman to any more torment from Vukovic. If she was going to win the case, she would win it on her terms and not by bullying people to do what they didn't want to. Tali had faced him once and won, there was no point in opening old wounds, not if Mac could help it.

Once the judge stepped in, the whole room came to their feet and were quickly seated again, impatiently waiting for the result. "Have the members come to a decision?"

A Naval Captain came to her feet and turned towards the Judge. "We have, sir."

"Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic and counsel, please rise. . .Captain, you may now read your findings."

Taking a breath, she began reading the lesser charges and then worked her way up. "On the charge of Article 108 – Loss, Damage, Destruction or Wrongful Disposition of Military Property of the United States, the members find Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic – Not Guilty." Mac knew that was a difficult charge to sick, but Loftness had insisted she try anything possible.

Stoically, Vic stood, facing forwards, eyes unflinching as the charges continued. "On the charges and specifications of Article 128 – Assault – the members find Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic – Guilty." He grimaced slightly knowing that all of Mac's witnesses had sealed that coffin since most had claimed he'd assaulted Arjan. That was fine, the penalty wasn't quite as bad as the one for espionage.

"On the charge and specifications of Article 133 – Conduct Unbecoming an Officer and a Gentleman, the members find Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic – Guilty." Once again, it was not surprising.

"On the charge and specifications of Article 199 B – Involuntary Manslaughter – the members find Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic – Guilty."

That was one of the big ones which Mac had hoped would land a guilty verdict. It wasn't quite what any of them wanted, but without concrete proof that Vukovic had forced Arjan to do anything, she had to choose the lesser charge.

A hush came over the crowd as the final charge was brought up – Espionage. This was the big Whopper, the one that would make or break the case and, quite possibly, her career. You didn't go around blaming people for treason if you weren't certain. And, with this case, seeing it from the other side of the fence, there were circumstances that just didn't make sense. Mac only hoped she hadn't totally seemed to be grasping desperately at straws. "On the charges and specifications of Article 106 A – Espionage, the members find Lieutenant Commander Gregory Vukovic – Guilty."

Harm leaned forward, his hand brushing Mac's shoulder affectionately. He saw her sigh deeply and deflate into the chair. Her job was done and though sentencing was yet to be passed, this was a victory with the knowledge that, at least, Vukovic will see hard labor.

Vic squeezed his eyes shut, his mind trying to wrap around the fact that the military now considered him a terrorist of sorts. In truth, he was – that stunt he'd pulled with Harm was nothing short of a terrorist action considering the time and place that he'd opted to bring down his type of law. But, damnit, he had to save Sarah from Rabb. The man just didn't deserve a woman like her! "Corporal, take Lieutenant Commander Vukovic into custody. . .Sentencing will be held tomorrow at 1300, sharp."

Marine Lance Corporal Damien Kain stepped towards the defense's table, "Mr. Robiard, sir, step away." His attempt to reach Vukovic was stopped as an angry Alexander Robiard lunged himself towards the prosecution table where Mac stood hugging Harm.

"You little bitch!" He said, jumping towards Mac with a blind fury. Harm managed to pull her away in the nick of time, and half a second later Lance Corporal Kain was grabbing the man as Marine Corporal Kevin Duquette pushed through the throng of people that were chaotically strewn around the courtroom. The sound of Bidermeyer's gavel frantically banging was muffled by the sounds of people screaming and yelling.

Above all of the confusion, one person had his bearings. Unfortunately, that one person had nothing to lose and a point to make before he was sent into oblivion. Despite his better judgment (like he actually had any?) Vukovic came up behind Lance Corporal Kain, quickly making work of removing the man's side arm. Using the butt of the gun, he knocked the Corporal out, then point blank, shot Alexander Robiard in the chest. Once both men were out of his line of sight, he narrowed his vision towards Harm and Mac. "You son of a bitch. . .You don't deserve her, you never did!" He raised the weapon to shoot only to stop as Mac stood before him, arms akimbo as she tried to protect Harm. "MOVE SARAH!"

Mac shook her head, stubbornly keeping her position even when Harm tried to move her away. She knew that in Vukovic's twisted mind, she meant something to him and hoped he wouldn't shoot at her. "No. . .If you want to shoot Harm, you have to go through me."

"Mac, no!" Harm cried out, a lump rising in his throat as the thoughts of witnessing her murder fought fleetingly in his mind. "Vukovic, put the gun down! This isn't worth it!"

But, he didn't comply. Instead, he used whatever shred of weapons training he'd had to point the gun over Mac's shoulder where Harm stood a head taller than her. He still had a shot and he was going to take it. "Bye, bye, Rabb."

Five shots ran out as the cacophony of screams grew. The press outside was trying to make light of the situation and even Judge Bidermeyer was in complete confusion over what he'd witnessed. Mac's body lay on the floor with Harm's frame covering her. By his limp state, she was sure he'd been shot and killed. A strangled sob came out as she begged for help. From her vantage point she was able to see the blood as well as the shell casings and the gun that rested a foot away from what was left of Vukovic. It was apparent that the other Marine guard had shot and killed the man. To her, that wasn't enough. Not if Harm was dead.

She felt the weight come off of her body and was tempted to lay there and grieve forever until she heard Harm's voice, a little weak, urging her to stand. Glancing upwards, she found him alive and slightly well, nursing his shoulder, which one of the bullets had grazed. "Oh God." She fell into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. "I thought I'd lost you again. . .I. . ."

"It's over, Mac." Harm held onto her, the feel of Mac in his arms distracting him from the pain in his shoulder. It was a flesh wound, but it still hurt like hell. His eyes fixed on the blood and the lifeless corpse that now lay in the center of the red pool. 'I'm not a murderer.' He recalled how vehemently he'd said it in a hotel room when he'd believed that Vukovic had raped Mac. It was a sheer miracle that his anger hadn't ended the other man's life. Now, his regrets for not finishing the job dissipated as he realized that Vic was marked for death – proof that evil didn't go unpunished. "It's over."

From the corner of his eye, he spied a familiar figure and noted a silvery object which she held in her hand. Making a quick scan of the room, he noted that the other Marine guard still had his side arm in his holster which could only mean one thing - soon to be former Secretary of the Navy Caroline Hewitt had shot her son. "I'm sorry." She mouthed the words at Harm, then smiled sadly. It had to be done. She knew that the monster she'd created needed to be put to rest. It was better this way, she realized. And though her days in politics were over, there was other fun to be had – things to invest in. Soon this would be all behind her. Hewitt slipped the small pistol into her purse, then weaved her way out of the courtroom and past the press.

Sometimes, the prices people paid for freedom were astronomical.

Harm would keep Hewitt's secrets and, in turn, she had set him and Mac free. It was a nominal fee but then, she'd paid so much more. It was only fair, he supposed, seeing as neither he nor Mac had set out to hurt anyone. They'd been pawns in the game.

Game Over.


	31. Christmas In July

**It's oooooooover. Done, finito! And for those wondering about a Part 3. . .Are you nuts! Guys, and sit down for this one, you've now read approximately 241 pages in Part 1 and 261 in part 2 for a whopping – 502 pages! Written in font size 10. That's a lot. **

**Oh, and to top it off, had this part ended on July 24th, it would have been a year, exactly, since part one posted. Wow, wow, wow! collapses**

**Anyway, thank you all for sticking with this, you've been great.**

**For information on this story and up and coming stories, hitch it all of the way to the bottom!**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**PS: Thre is a more "interesting" version to this chatper. You know - SMUT!. If you want it, just review with your e-mail or e-mail me off FFnet - radiorox(at)bellsouth(dot)net. Cool? Cool!**

**Part 31 – Christmas In July.**

July 2, 2010  
1900 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego California

Harm was leaning across the center console of Mac's Corvette, his hands roaming over her body as his lips couldn't find enough places to kiss. "Mmmm." She'd been away for a week when Cresswell needed both her and Sturgis back at Falls Church. Mac had been much too busy to keep in contact with him, so he'd spent six lonely nights curled up with her pillow, breathing in the scent of her. The time apart had given him a chance to plan something that he hoped would be received well.

It had taken nearly two whole days to set up and all of his friends had helped. Even Mattie, who was planning to stay the weekend in Trish and Frank's house in order to give Harm and Mac a little privacy, melted at such a romantic notion.

"Mmmm, are we going to head inside, sailor, or you planning for us to just get it on in the car?" She said in a light, teasing voice. Her grin was infectious.

"Weeeeell. . .See, I have this surprise for you. . .and I guess I'm stalling a bit." He said cryptically, then moved away from her and stepped out of the car. Going around to the passenger's side, he held the door open for Mac.

"A surprise?" She asked and received a nod as a response. "For me?" Another nod and a shy, yet expectant look on his handsome face. "Should I be worried?"

Flyboy grin in place, Harm lifted his hand up and brought his index finger and thumb close together. "Maybe a 'lil bit. . . C'mon!" Enthusiastically, he took her by the hand and literally dragged her pass the garage door and towards the front entrance of the house. "I've been worried all day that you wouldn't like it. . .but then, I figure, there isn't a reason why you wouldn't. . ." He was babbling, still holding her hand in his as the other fished through his Khaki's pockets for the house keys. "I mean, it's a bit crazy. . .okay, totally crazy, but, it's nice and. . .you know? Just don't kill me." With that, he unlocked the door and ushered her inside the small, darkened foyer. "Ah, could you close your eyes?"

Mac had never been the 'surprise' kinda gal. She preferred things out in the open and with as much detail as possible. But the way he'd been acting was almost like a kid with a Christmas present. It was cute, adorable, and she really had no reason why not to trust him. However, she wouldn't make it easy for him. Part of the fun of their relationship had been the constant banter and teasing, "I better not walk in and find teal and bright orange wallpaper all over the living room, Rabb. That's just freakish."

"Well, some might consider it freakish." He walked behind her, moving Mac to stand in the center of the living room. "Just stand there for two secs. . .You'll know when to open your eyes." He was practically skipping towards the light switch which, when thrown, bathed the room in lights.

_Christmas lights. _

From the stereo a jazz version of "Silent Night" came alive. "Oh my God." When Mac opened her eyes, she was assaulted by the decorations of a holiday that, in no way, belonged in the beginning of July.

The entertainment center boasted her small holiday village complete with fake snow and the light set that lit the insides of the houses. To the side was an eight foot Christmas tree with bright colored lights and all of the decorations she'd dressed their original tree in. Below it was an assortment of gifts which were never opened and had become forgotten and stored in the office's large closet. "Oh wow." Walking towards the dinning room, she spotted a beautiful lit garland with large red bows gracing the banister of the steps.

Even the kitchen table had a dark green table cover with a burgundy runner across the top. In the center was a decoration made out of cinnamon and orange pinecones and, what had to be, a plastic poinsettia flowers. Turning back to the living room, she found a Santa Clause throw on their overstuffed arm chair and various decorative pillows with wintry scenes across the sofa. In every possible place sat some sort of Christmas decoration, both lighted and none. He'd done a wonderful job and even put out things she didn't even use when she'd been decorating. "It's. . .It's beautiful." Involuntarily, a tear slipped out, running down her cheek.

Harm pressed his hand against her cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping away the stray. "We didn't get a chance to spend Christmas together and you were making it sound so wonderful. . ." He trailed off, emotion catching in his voice. "I needed to make it up to you and it _couldn't_ wait until December. . .So, I got the gang together and we decided to have Christmas in July." He said with a sheepish grin.

Mac crashed into his arms, her lips meeting his halfway. The force caused Harm to lose his balance and fall into the couch with her in tow. She adjusted her position, bringing her knees to either side of him, straddling his lap. Mac kissed his lips, his cheeks, his nose. Her tongue licked his chin before she nibbled on the same spot with a five o'clock shadow. "God, I love you." The words came out almost like a low purr as she settled her forehead against his. "I have a present for you. Something you're _really_ going to like."

"I have a few for you myself. . .Everything is under the tree. The fake tree that is. Mom and Frank had it in storage. But, everything is there." He pointed in that general direction, smile widening when Mac gave him a wicked grin. "What?" His arms prevented her from falling off of his lap, as Mac leaned back slightly.

Thankfully, he didn't have a clue. She'd done a good job of hiding one of his more _interesting_ Christmas presents. "Be right back." Mac planted a quick kiss on his lips, slid off of his lap and hurried up the stairs, stopping at the landing. "Make yourself comfortable. . .I need to get out of these clothes."

Eyebrow raised at her current about face, Harm merely conceded. "Uh, okay." There were just some things he was never going to understand about women. Five minutes passed and he was absolutely sure his Marine had fallen asleep upstairs. Not that he could blame her, the woman had looked exhausted when he picked her up at the base. "Mac?" He yelled from the bottom of the stairs only to get a warning of imminent death if he should try to come near her.

Without another word, he kicked off his sandals and busied himself in the kitchen, adorning a plate with the chocolate chip cookies he'd baked. Mattie had once teased, calling him Mr. Mom at his domestic capabilities, but he was quite pleased with himself. Some of his friends, like Jack Keeter, couldn't even microwave. Besides, women seemed to like a man that knew his way around the kitchen. Not that it mattered, at the moment, he only had one woman left to impress which, despite their years of friendship, he could still surprise with his culinary expertise.

When another five minutes passed, Harm suddenly didn't know what to do with himself. He tried straightening some of the ornaments on the tree which led to straightening the presents under it and then the skirt. "Damnit, why am I nervous?" He hadn't realized it before but an anxious feeling had been rolling around within him, growing with each passing moment. It was surreal, to say the least. Hearing the top step creak, Harm spun around finding Mac descending them. "Oh my. . ." The ability to formulate any coherent sentenced vanished uniformly.

"See something you like, sailor?" Mac purred, raising an eyebrow in question as she sexily displayed one of his 'gifts.' Carefully, she stepped the rest of the way down, using the wall to strike a sexy pose. "Hmmm, cat got your tongue?" She'd never seen him so speechless before. Then again, she'd never worn anything so risqué before in her life. Bright red, wrap around high heels with matching red, thigh high stockings was just the beginning. Harm gulped when he saw a red, velvet triangle with white fuzz held together by a string that wrapped around Mac's waist. There was no doubt in his mind that it was a g-string. The top, which barely covered her chest, was a red velvet, quarter inch sleeved jacket which tied right between the valley of her breasts. Topping the outfit off was the lopsided Santa hat and a seductive smile that was making him jollier than Santa himself could ever be. "Well, if you don't like it. . ." She began to tease only to be interrupted by one flustered Harmon Rabb, Junior.

Harm's mouth opened and closed a few times. "Jesus, Mac. . .Wow. . .I mean." He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, then took a few steps closer. "If Mrs. Clause _really_ looked like this, I don't think Santa would ever leave the North Pole."

"So, are you going to _unwrap_ your present?" She feigned impatience, flicking imaginary lint off of her freshly painted red nails. Ever since she'd bought the outfit, her mind kept conjuring ways to approach him, to have a little fun. Often, the prudish side within herself would chastise some of the naughty options. Any insecure thoughts rushed right out the moment he looked at her. Harm's gaze could be described as only one thing: _hungry._

Pushing herself off the wall, she slowly strutted towards him. "I'm getting cold, flyboy." Her voice hadn't lost its sexy timbre. And the way she was looking at him was turning Harm on like nobody's business.

"Hmmm." He reached out and slid a finger down the velvety material covering her arms. "Not sure where to start, Mac." Lasciviously, he eyed her up and down, a sultry smile gracing his lips. Santa surely never had it so good.

After one wild round of love making, Harm had placed a Afgahn which he lowered Mac onto. "Make love to me. ..please."

Those words never failed to stir something primal within him. Damnit, he could spend the rest of his life making love to her and never, ever tire of it, he was sure. Harm lowered himself down, capturing her mouth with his own. He kissed her slowly, lovingly, their love making joining in the rhythm.

More often than not, their unions were this way, a hot wild foray before slowing things down. Mac loved the connection that seemed to surpass body and soul. Harm just couldn't stop kissing her and he'd never considered himself to be so much into kissing until he met Mac. There were times where he'd sat in his office imagining different ways he could go about kissing her, and then imagining the different ways she'd likely kick his butt for even trying. Had he known, really known what she felt for him, nothing of the past would have happened. No Dalton, no Mic and definitely no Webb. "I love you, Mac." He said softly.

"Call me Sarah." Mac said in response, surprising him greatly. Patiently, he'd waited for this moment in time when she'd trust him completely again. Not that she didn't trust him, but the other Harm had screwed with her psyche and left an unreasonable fear that he would have given his soul to take away. Now, she was surrendering to him fully, body, heart and soul. "Please. . .Call me Sarah." She urged, glancing up with those molten chocolate eyes that never ceased to make him feel invincible.

He smiled against her lips, then whispered in her ear. "I love you, Sarah."

"I love you, Harm. . .So much." Mac's arms wrapped around his body, urging him to continue their love making until they were both spent.

July 3, 2010  
1130 Local  
Mac and Harm's House  
San Diego, California

"Harm, would you mind turning up the air-conditioning? It's freezing in here." Mac lay across Harm who was lying on the sofa. They were clothed now, but not by much as she was only wearing an old Annapolis t-shirt and he, just sweat pants. The sexy Mrs. Clause outfit was somewhere on the floor with the afghan where they'd slept on until a slight chill roused Harm. He'd taken Mac to bed then, where they made love once more before falling to sleep.

In the morning, Harm had woken up to find Mac in the kitchen trying to prepare a meal so that they could have breakfast in bed. Forgoing the idea, they'd shared breakfast in the dinning room and then moved on to unwrapping presents.

Ever since, they'd been lying on the sofa, just enjoying the 'holiday season.' "Mac, it's 'winter.' It's _supposed_ to be cold." He reasoned why the air-conditioning was at a chilly sixty five degrees. He wanted their Christmas to be as authentic as possible. And with that authenticity came the cold.

The moment her brow rose in annoyance, he knew he was had. "Mmm. There's just one technical problem with your deduction, Captain."

"And that is?"

She slid off of him and sat up on the sofa. "If it really were cold, we'd have the heater on."

"Touché." Alright, so she got him there! In all honesty, he hadn't thought about heating units and cold weather. His mind was on creating Christmas, period. In all his excitement, he forgot that she got cold rather easily. "Fine. . .fine, I'll kill the _ambiance_."

Shivering Mac brushed her hands up and down her arms. "Good, because I am not sure I can take any more ambiance without my teeth clattering."

Harm pushed himself off of the sofa and made his way around the mess on the floor. Scraps of white, green and red wrapping paper lay strewn over most of the entire living room floor. Clothing, gifts from relatives and friends, lay over the arm chair. A wooden model of an F-14 that could be used as a paper weight, sat on the coffee table along with a thick book on the history of avionics that Mac had given him. "So is that all?" He asked, as he returned from playing with the temperature control. "No more presents?"

Mac glanced up at him and chuckled. "We spent about an hour unwrapping stuff and you're asking me if there's more?" Honestly, sometimes he had a habit of acting like a little boy. It was cute, endearing really. "Actually. . ." She drew out slowly, then sat forward and pulled open a side drawer on the coffee table. "There might be something else." When he sat next to her, she handed him a small, flat box which he made quick work of opening. "It's a bit. . .well, I just hope you like them."

The gift was probably the sappiest thing she'd ever given anyone. And yet, it was original, different and something they could always have on them. From the box, Harm pulled out a set of dogtags with the black silencers wrapped around the edge, the only thing missing was the chain. He shot Mac a curious look and then paid attention to the engraving on the metal _"Harmon and Sarah – Friends, Partners, Lovers, Soulmates.."_ Harm read and that strong armor that he'd always used to keep his emotions in check, seemed to crack open completely. At a loss for words, he turned to gaze at Mac. His voice catching in his throat when he went to speak again.

"I don't know why I thought of that. But, while you were away, I was going through a few military surplus websites and saw the dog tags. I thought it would be a nice way to make you remember that you had someone waiting at home. That you'd return to me."

"Oh, Mac." Harm pressed the palm of his hand against her cheek. "I love you." He kissed her softly, tenderly all the while searching with his free hand through the pocket of his sweats. When they broke apart, he held in his hand a red velvet box which immediately caught Mac's eye. Opening it, he exposed a simple, white gold, engagement ring with a single, clear diamond in a tear shaped cut. It's simplicity did not take away from the classy elegance and Harm was just anxious to see how it looked on her finger. "I ah. . ." He breathed out sharply, eyes remaining on the diamond as he spoke. "We've talked about changes, the one that have occurred around us and the ones that occurred within us. I'm not a fan of change, Mac, unless it involves some supersonic aircraft. It scares me when the constants in my life are jumbled and turned upside down. . .And that is exactly what you did to me the morning of January 31, 1997. You turned my world inside out. And it was a good thing because, I met my best friend, my partner and the woman that I would come to love so much. I wish I could pin point exactly when it was that I fell in love with you. All I know is that I did. I'm sorry that so many factors have kept us apart in the past. I vow now, if you accept me as your husband, to never allow anything or anyone to separate us ever again. I love you, Sarah. . .marry me?" His question was barely understandable as fear of rejection came close to the surface.

Mac brushed away the tears that were streaming down here face. She'd already had what she wanted, Harm and her were sharing a house. They already were a family. His proposal was icing on the cake and something she'd given up hope of ever receiving. Her heart fluttered when the light was caught by the diamond. Damnit, he knew her well enough to chose something simple, not the extravagance that some men needed just to mark their territory. While Harm did have a tendency to be territorial around her, he'd always understood that she could stand on her own two feet and she loved him for that. "Yes, Harm. . .Yes." Taking the ring out of its resting place, Harm heaved a sigh of relief. He carefully placed the ring at the tip of her finger and then slid it into place before kissing where the ring had rested. Mac raised his head and kissed him soundly. She was sure she never loved him more than she did at that given time.

Before their kisses and caresses could escalate, he had just one more gift for her. A gift that meant so much more than just a ring and the promise of marriage. He was giving her his life. Harm felt Mac pull away from him as he'd pushed a larger velvet box between the two of them. The familiarity of the box wasn't lost on Mac. It was the types that were used when the military gave out medals and if the look of hesitation in his eyes meant anything, Mac already knew what was inside – his wings. "No, Harm." She pushed the box towards him, shaking her head. "No."

Harm opened the box anyway, balancing it on his knee. "Mac, I know what my accident did to you. And I know what it did to me. . .I can't put you through that again, I can't. Worse yet, I won't put you through the same situation my mother was in when dad went MIA. I can't stand thinking of you with the same look of remorse that she had for so long. . .I can't and I won't do that to you." Flying was his first true love and it was the one thing he was willing to give up if it meant spending forever with Mac.

"You're not going to give up flying for me, Harm. . .I won't let you do it." She understood, quite clearly, that people had a force that drove them to succeed. For her, it had been the Marine Corps and the values that they'd asserted into her. It was clear as day that they'd saved her life and given her a purpose, a reason to live. This was the same for Harm and avionics. It had been the one constant in his life that truly held a connection between he and his father. And she wasn't going to take that way, Mac loved him too much.

"It scares you when I fly."

"Yes it does." She admitted, "But, it's something that I've learned to cope with through the years. If something is going to happen to you, it will happen. Doesn't matter if you are in a plane, a car or sitting here on this sofa. I get it. I understand the passion you feel when flying and I am not going to take that away because of any fear I may have." When he made to object, she pressed a finger to his lips. "Those men and women _need _the best of the best and that's you, flyboy. You have many years of flying still ahead before you have to step off of that plane indefinitely. And when the time does come, just remember that you have a Marine waiting for you at home." A sheepish grin overcame her features as she leaned in and said with a teasing voice, "A Marine that _hates_ flying, but is willing to learn how to fly 'Sarah' if you're willing to teach her."

Harm was taken aback by her response. "You really want to learn how to fly her?"

"Yes." Mac shrugged. "Would be kinda cool to have two pilots in this house. . .Three when Mattie is around and maybe even four if AJ's love for planes ends up becoming a career for him." While they didn't have their own kids, the family around them had surely made up for it. "And whenever you need to go up in front of the review board, you have a passionate advocate on your side, Captain."

"I already went in front of the review board, Mac." He stated solemnly before breaking out in a wide grin. "I wasn't held accountable. . .If anything, I might get another DFC for shooting down one of the MIGs and protecting my wingman." Not telling her was probably a silly thing to do, but he had his reasons. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you but. . ."

"No, I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes. It was something you needed to do on your own." She pointed out, showing him, yet again, that she really did know him quite well.

"Yes, it was and I am glad I did. For a moment my ego took a bit of a bruising and this helped me sort everything out." Taking the box with his wings, he closed it shut and then slid it up on the coffee table. "I love you, Mac."

"I love you too, Harm. I think I always have" She said truthfully, sighing happily as his mouth came down upon hers. Mac felt him lift her slightly and her arms came around his neck as she felt herself being lifted from the couch.

Harm placed her on the afghan still on the floor and then covered her body with his own as their lips met in a loving kiss.

_Soulmates._ The word passed through Harm's mind as he thought back on his life with Sarah MacKenzies. So many factors had stood in the way. Some of them appearing to be an immovable force that was determined to keep them apart. They'd survived death, loneliness and other lovers only to be parted and shifted away to opposite ends of the world. Yet, the connection between them never ceased to break completely.

In the end, Fate, calling like a Siren's song, brought them back to one another and taught them how to love.

THE END.

". . .You rise like a wave in the ocean  
And you fall gently back to the sea  
Now I want to know how to hold you  
Return to me

You shine like the moon over water  
And you darken the sky when you leave  
Now I want to know how to keep you  
Return to me  
Turn to me

Everything I tell you has been spoken  
And everything I say was said before  
But everything I feel is for the first time  
And everything I feel, I feel for you

I am here calling the wind  
I am here calling your name  
I am here calling you back  
Return to me

I know what it means to be lonely  
And I know what it means to be free  
Now I want to know how to love you  
Return to me

I am here calling the wind  
I am here calling your name  
I am here calling you back  
Return to me

I am here  
Return to me. . ."  
October Project "Return To Me"

Wow, I want to say that I will never write a story this long again, but I can't. Because, I don't know. The next one my very well be twice as long. God, I don't hope so!

_Return To Me_ began out of two ideas for a story and one song. I'd been watching the movie Blown Away with Jeff Bridges and heard the song "Return To Me" from a band called October Project. Me, being the little music fiend that I am, had to download it. I liked the lyrics a lot and was toying with making a slide show when the idea for a story popped into my head.

Something about the lyrics made it interesting to me. I mean, there are parts of the song that are somewhat profound though the lyrics aren't overly cerebral.

So, I had the idea of a story involving Harm going off to war and having a mishap and then returning to Mac. – Return To Me – sounded simple enough. But, I've never been the type to do a simple story. Well, I do have a few simple ones, but I tend to have more idea for dramatics. Actually, now that I recall, the story involved Harm going back up in the F-14 to dogfight because of the MIGs. That idea did remain inact.

I never knew that Vukovic would be behind the mishap though, originally Harm was shot down, just because he was. Harm wasn't supposed to lose his memory but be lost in the woods somewhere with Skates. However, I'm a shipper and the idea of either Harm or Mac cajoling with others, even if it's platonic, doesn't appeal to me much. Anyway, the story was almost deleted as I was bored of what little I'd written of it a year ago.

Then, there was another dillema, I was getting rather pissed off with JAG, S10 and the lack of shiperness. Vic was introduced and I couldn't help but hate the character. The Harm and Mac relationship was in this virtual standstill and my hopes of DPB rectifying anything went down the drain after 4 Percent Solution didn't leave much of a Solution at all.

So, enraged, I had a vision of them at McMurphy's going their separate ways. The original start of the story had Harm and Mac in a huge fight and them realizing that it wasn't meant to be, period. But, as much as I wanted a huge fight, I wanted them together more. So the story became what you read – Harm and Mac finding each other after 5 years. A more grown up version of the two of them, successful at their jobs but never in their love lives.

The idea of making Harm a Private Eye had to do with the Tim Daly show 'Eye' which was canceled (Don't know why, it was rather cool!). I'd even bought a private eye book to get some ideas on how Harm would proceed with certain cases. It was fun and nice to see him in civvies. It also gave me a chance to put them in some funny and sticky situations.

All and all, it worked, even my sordid ideas seemed to work rather nicely. Thank you all for coming along for the ride.

What's next?

Two things. Well, three if you count the Fine Art Of Dating which I have some ideas for. Tee hee!

One is a story I wrote for the FOJ summer season last year. I'll have to make a few changes, but it will keep your appetite wet before I start posting the next real story which I am working on.

The working title is 'The Webbs We Tangle Ourselves In' - I'll ask again, anyone have a better title?

It's going to set our heroes back into Paraguay but with a twist – Mr. And Mrs. Williams will be Harm and Mac, not Webb and Mac. Oh, Webb will be around, but not as Mac's husband. They will get into some hairy situations. I have some ideas in my head that appeal to me greatly and have done so for the last year. Yes, this story has been in my head for a year. It keeps me up at night as, all of a sudden, I'll figure out another part of it and have to write it down. I wonder if this is what a real writer goes through. Anyway…

There are some really shipperish scenes in the earlier chapters of the Paraguay story. This is usually against my own rules, but, it was just so damned cute. And a need before things got sticky. I'm still working out the logistics on how to get them out of Paraguay and whether or not Webb should die. LOL!

So, stay tuned for that!

Thanks again gang, you rock!

Jackie.


End file.
